


Innikh Dê

by EldritchMage



Series: Kili and Tauriel [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Attempted sodomy, F/M, Gundebad Orcs, Imladris, Kili and Tauriel get married, Kili and Tauriel have a baby, Kili and a Warg, Kili and his mother argue, Lots of Angst, Lots of romance, Lots of romantic consensual sex, Mirkwood Orcs, More scenery changes than a James Bond movie and twice the excitement, Orc Spawn, Orcs at their worst, Rivendell, Wargs, a really terrific Warg named Grimmaz!, epic adventure, noble-and-dutiful Kili versus I-wanna-live-my-life Kili
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-03-22 09:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 54
Words: 229,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3723943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldritchMage/pseuds/EldritchMage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hi, everyone. Here's another post-Erebor tale about our favorite Dwarven archer, Kili, and our favorite Nandor Elf maid, Tauriel. It's a sequel to my previous tales, "A Gift of Sunlight," and "Ancalima Hendi."</p><p>In the aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies, is there anyplace that will shelter an exhausted prince of Durin and an exiled Woodland Elf? Perhaps Lord Elrond's magical city of Imladris will offer Kili and Tauriel a haven as they prepare to have their first child. Or does the promise Kili made to his mother to return to her take precedence? In either case, Kili and Tauriel know the path won't be easy, but neither of them expected that so many Elves, Dwarves, Orcs, and Wargs, much less a wizard and a hobbit, would be on that path with them!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Snaga snarled when the second of his three Orc riders fell to the She-Elf. What he wouldn’t do to get his hands around her thin neck! He’d make her scream for a lifetime before he finally tore out her throat and threw her body to his Warg to savage. The old man with her who was so adept with his staff, too. Even the small creature with the bare feet who had a bright pin of a knife, though he’d make only half a morsel._

_The fourth one... odd. Dressed as an Elf, but short. A skilled warrior despite his size. Power behind his blows; too much for a Man-child. He’d taken the first Orc rider with a single blow – black vermin, he just took the third one the same way, head off in a single sweep! A Dwarf? Too thin. And dressed as an Elf..._

_His captain would want to hear about that one._

_Snaga wheeled his Warg around, and loped silently east._

 

* * *

 

“The thing I like best about Rivendell,” Bilbo said, “is the singing.”

I turned to regard the hobbit as he rode beside me on his shaggy pony. “That is not what I expected you to say.”

“You thought I’d say the food, Tauriel?” At my nod, Bilbo grinned to concede the accuracy of my guess. “Ah. I suppose the reputation of hobbits at table precedes me. We are fond of our meals.”

“Dwarves share that same fondness,” I said with a smile.

Bilbo and I looked back at Kili atop his stocky, longhaired pony, deep in conversation with Gandalf, who rode beside him on a tall horse. The incongruity of the two made me chuckle, but I didn’t think the difference in height between a wizard and a Dwarf was what drew Bilbo to snort.

“You know something of Dwarves and food, then?” I asked.

That got another snort out of the hobbit. “Thanks to Gandalf the Grey, I most certainly do. That’s how I came to be part of their expedition to Erebor, you know. The wizard bashed a secret sign on my front door, and by the time the evening was out, I had thirteen Dwarves ransacking my home. They stripped the larder, fouled the plumbing, trashed the dining room, and exhibited the most appalling table manners in all of Middle Earth. They walked on the table, spilled ale all over the floor – they even threw the food back and forth instead of passing the plates! Then they had a belching contest that nearly broke the crockery.”

I laughed hard for the first time in days. It felt good, especially when Bilbo joined me in his quiet way.

“Despite all that, I’ll miss them,” he admitted. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to know them better. They may seem rough around the edges at first, but better companions you won’t find. Good in a fight, too. You saw Kili yesterday when those Orcs crossed us. Imagine what thirteen of them are like. I’m better for knowing them.”

We fell silent. Bilbo was lost in his thoughts, perhaps thinking of the Orcs’ attack. We had made good time in our journey from Laketown, and would reach Imladris, Rivendell in the Common Tongue, in another day. But despite our distance from the battleground before the gates of Erebor, there were still Orcs aplenty to prey on unwary travelers. We’d been lucky to avoid them so far. Three of them, mounted on savage Wargs, had descended upon us in the waning sunlight in near silence, but their intent was as clear as a scream, and I had found my bow without conscious thought, as had Kili beside me. We’d shot the Wargs first, killing or crippling all three in rapid order. That had left the Orcs afoot, but they had no thought of retreat. Kili had rushed his pony at them in a fury, taking the first one’s head off in a single blow as I shot the second one. Gandalf and Bilbo had set blades on the third one, engaging him long enough for Kili to take his head off as well. We’d paused only to retrieve our arrows and finish the Wargs, then had hastened away. Deciding prudence was in order, Gandalf had led us to a protected rock outcropping where we could make a defensive camp for the night. I’d kept careful watch under the stars, refreshing myself as Elves do while my companions slept, but we’d been left in peace. We’d resumed our journey to Imladris with all speed this morning just after dawn, and expected to reach Lord Elrond’s city by noon today.

“Those Orcs were dead the moment they set eyes on us,” I murmured. “Kili’s grief is too fresh for him to hold his hand against those who killed his brother and uncle.”

Bilbo regarded me thoughtfully. “You know something about that kind of grief, I think.”

“My mother and father.”

“I’m sorry.” He grimaced. He looked back at the pair behind us. “I hope Gandalf can ease Kili a little.”

“He will never be the carefree Dwarf he was,” I said quietly. “He’s lost his uncle, his home, and his people, but I don’t think those would be so hard for him to bear if he hadn’t lost his brother, too. He and Fili were very close. They had each other when they had nothing else.”

Bilbo sighed, but he mustered a smile for me. “You and I must keep reminding him that he hasn’t got nothing, mustn’t we? He has you, and the two of you have a child on the way. And you’re at the start of a new adventure, one that doesn’t have a dragon in it, or a war, and I hope no Orcs. You’re on your way to Rivendell with a wizard.”

“And a hobbit,” I reminded him, but Bilbo dismissed that with a wave of the hand.

“I’m just an observer, on the way back to the Shire,” he demurred. “The key figure as far as you and Kili are concerned is Gandalf. He’s got something up his long grey sleeve.”

“What makes you think that?” I asked, intrigued.

Bilbo winked. “Because he’s a wizard, and a wizard worth his salt always has something up his sleeve. He’s quite pleased with himself that you and Kili are coming to Rivendell.”

“Coming is one thing, Bilbo. Staying is another.”

Bilbo tsked. “I wouldn’t worry about that, Tauriel.” He nodded in the wizard’s direction. “In fact, I’d say your place in Rivendell is a certainty.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I think Lord Elrond will have something to say about that.”

Bilbo’s grin was wry. “Lord Elrond will think so, too. But it won’t matter.”

“You seem to know quite a lot about wizards.”

He demurred. “Just the one. He takes the long view, and you and Kili are caught up in that long view in some way, so you’ll find your place in Rivendell. Oh, here they come.”

“Tell me about the singing, then,” I asked, as Gandalf and Kili sped up to join us.

“It’s glorious,” Bilbo began. “It seems like there’s always singing in Rivendell, if you want it. Even the water flowing over the rocks sounds like singing. You’d think you’d get tired of it, but it’s very restful, except when it’s invigorating, or dreamy, or rousing, or half a hundred other things. Even if you don’t understand the words, you somehow understand what the song is about, and you feel better for it.”

“You’re becoming quite the poet, Bilbo,” Gandalf observed as his horse drew up beside Bilbo. Kili fell in beside me with a smile, which I gladly returned. “I almost expect you to tell me that you intend to take up Quenya so you can pen your own verses in High Elvish.”

Bilbo held up his hand. “No, no. For that, I’d have to stay in Rivendell, and I’m quite ready to return to the Shire. I want to snug down in my hobbit hole, restock my pillaged larder,” he cast Kili a pointed look, smiling when the Dwarf looked sheepish, “and plant my garden. Then I shall quietly write my book about the conquest of Erebor. That ought to occupy me for quite a while.”

“There will be time for that soon enough,” Gandalf replied, as we reached the top of the ridge. “Today, however, you will have to put up with a little of that singing you’re so fond of.”

Gandalf pointed down to the white city nestled amid the trees and waterways in the valley below. We had reached Imladris.


	2. Chapter 2

 

My _amrâlimê_ caught her breath as she took her first look at the Elvish city. It was beautiful, even in midwinter, for the bark of the leafless trees throughout the city shone a soft silver grey, contrasting well with the sparkling white stone that so many of the pavilions and other structures were made of. The sound of water was evident even from this height, for it flowed around and through the city into fountains and pools. The architecture itself was dazzling – domes, columns, spires, statues... a thousand elements, all of them the product of exotic Elvish artistry. Though I had seen the city once before, I was still as dazzled as Tauriel.

As beautiful as it was, however, I wondered anew whether I’d been right to venture here. I was a Dwarf, and while Lord Elrond had extended courtesy to Uncle Thorin and our company not three months ago, courtesy far beyond what King Thranduil had, it would be another thing for him to welcome me to live in his city. Animosity between our races had old roots. Still, the Rivendell Elves weren’t part of that animosity, and I hoped they’d be indulgent if only for Tauriel’s sake.

What if they refused to tolerate a Silvan Elf who hadn’t seen the Two Trees, and so wasn’t as exalted as the Rivendell clan? Or one who loved a Dwarf and carried his child? As a youngster, I’d bloodied a few noses over insinuations that my mother had coupled with an Elf to produce me – six inches taller than the average Dwarf, with strange wavy black hair, scant beard, pointed chin, and high cheekbones – and I expected Elves to be no less accepting of their maids consorting with Dwarves.

I didn’t care who my father was – _Maamr_ had never said, and I had never asked. But _Maamr_ hadn’t deserved the scrutiny of gossipmongers who looked for the scandal of a mixed child. She’d led the Blue Mountain Dwarves when my Uncle Thorin was away, and an able leader she was, as well as a caring mother. I loved her very much. Our people would need her more than ever now, even with Dain the new king under the mountain.

I missed her even more because Fili was gone. So was my Uncle Thorin. I wondered how long it would take before I thought of them without being overwhelmed in grief. How bad would it be for _Maamr,_ who would have to grieve for her eldest son and her brother alone?

She’d grieve for me, too, because everyone thought I’d died before I’d ever reached Erebor. I’d wanted it that way because I didn’t want to be king... but the anguish I’d cause _Maamr_ was a guilty burden.

“Kili?”

Tauriel called me back to the present. I smiled up at her and kept my doubts, my grief, to myself.

“ _Amrâlimê_?”

“It is very beautiful, as you told me.”

“So it is.”

“Let us go in,” Gandalf invited, and led the way with Bilbo. Tauriel and I fell in behind, side by side.

“Here we go,” I murmured to myself, but sharp-eared Tauriel heard me.

“This isn’t an Orc foray, _a’maelamin_ ,” she murmured in return, smiling, but she looked apprehensive. Maybe I could ease her.

“Easy for you to say,” I winced. “You weren’t the one who threw the cake that missed Bofur and landed on the back of Lord Elrond’s dinner chair.”

“You didn’t!” she whispered, stifling laughter.

“He did,” Bilbo called back. “It was filled with custard, and left quite a splatter.”

“What in the forest for?”

I smirked. I hadn’t done that in while, and it felt strange. “Bofur was singing ‘The Man in the Moon,’ wasn’t he? It’s quite a long song, and I was still hungry. What else would you expect me to do?”

Bilbo grinned. “What about bathing naked in the sacred fountain?”

“Kili!” Tauriel exclaimed, her eyes dancing.

“It was a fine sunny day, the fountain was deserted, and we’d been on the road for days without benefit of a wash,” I protested.

“So you went bathing in a public fountain?” Tauriel caught Gandalf’s wince and had to choke down her laughter.

“We thought it was a public bath, didn’t we? And didn’t we want to make ourselves presentable to all those clean Elves –”

“They played water chicken in a fountain dedicated to an Elf queen,” Bilbo continued, inordinately pleased with himself when Tauriel couldn’t contain her laughter any longer. “The whole lot of them, even Thorin. He and Dwalin took on all comers. It had lots of lovely nymphs dancing around tiered basins in the center, so they got the idea to jump off the basins and slide off the nymph’s nether –”

“And wasn’t a hobbit in the fountain with us?” I shot back, as Tauriel wiped her eyes helplessly.

“You threw me in!” Bilbo exclaimed.

“You were clean afterwards, weren’t you?”

“All my clothes were soaked!”

“So they were clean, too.”

“How could they not have been, with all the soap you lot dumped into the fountain? It took days to get it all out,” Bilbo ended.

“There will be no cavorting in sacred fountains, today, Master Dwarf.” Gandalf turned around to look at me with a stern eye. “Or throwing of cakes. Or food of any sort. Or crockery. Nothing at all, in fact. Not if you want an invitation to anything other than the path out.”

I hunched down and held up both hands in surrender. “Yes, sir.”

Gandalf turned back to the path down to the city. I, however, leaned closer to Tauriel. “The wee seed cakes don’t have any custard inside, so if the singing goes on a bit long, throw those. Less of a mess. As for the fountain, I can take you there for a splash later.”

She put both hands over her mouth to stifle her hilarity. It’d been so long since she’d laughed with that much life that I was glad I’d made the effort, despite Bilbo blabbering about the fountain. That had been one of the high points of my previous visit, even though Nori had given me a hellacious welt across my rump when he’d cracked his belt at me.

Fili had helped me toss Bilbo into the fountain. We’d laughed so hard that night about the squeal Bilbo had made when he’d hit the water. How could I bear not getting into trouble with my brother again?

We made our down the long winding path. The last time I’d been on this path, it had been to leave the city and travel north to Erebor. That seemed to be a lifetime ago. Then, I’d been excited to be off on a big adventure, heading for the famed city I'd never seen. But after months of dogged pursuit by Orcs, Goblins, more Orcs, Woodland Elves, even more Orcs, and then some more Orcs, I’d discovered that the big adventure involved a lot of exhaustion, hunger, pain, bloodshed, and horror. I hoped that those were behind me now, and I’d find a place to rest, make a home with my _amrâlimê_ , raise my child, and return to the forge. Maybe then I’d move past the grief that consumed me. Despite my joking, I had no intention of jeopardizing my chance of that by throwing anything at anyone at table, even if they stood on my dinner plate to sing.

We crossed the narrow bridge that separated the city from the mountain path, and Gandalf dismounted ahead of me. I guided my pony behind the wizard’s horse, dismounted, and went to offer Tauriel a hand down. She was quite capable of dismounting without my hand, but it was a courtesy I liked to offer to show her how much I loved her. She had already alit, but she took my hand willingly, squeezing it firmly as we waited behind Gandalf and Bilbo.

I peeked around the wizard’s robes as a tall, regal Elf descended the stairs in front of us. I recognized him from my previous visit. Poor Lindir had run himself frantic trying to amass enough food for thirteen Dwarves, and we’d rather depleted the city’s wine supply, as well. Dwarves prefer mead or beer, but Elves don’t fancy either, so we’d made do with the beverage on hand. I hadn’t liked it at first, but after a few bottles, I’d revised my opinion. Good thing, as that was all I’d had to drink during the weeks I’d been stuck in King Thranduil’s _Glawar-galad_. By now, I was almost a connoisseur of the stuff.

“Mithrandir!” Lindir greeted Gandalf with his Elvish name. He put his hand over his heart and bowed, smiling, a greeting that Gandalf returned. “Welcome back to Imladris! It is good to see you again so soon.”

“I thank you, Lindir,” Gandalf returned jovially. “You remember Mr. Baggins of the Shire, I think?”

“Lindir,” Bilbo bowed deeply. “Bilbo Baggins, at your service.”

“Welcome, Bilbo,” Lindir returned. “It’s very good to see you again.”

“And may I present Lady Tauriel to you? And Kili, whom I expect you remember from my previous visit as well.”

The wizard drew us forward with a pointed stare at me, so I made my best bow beside Tauriel. “Kili, at your service,” I said, smiling at Lindir’s expression, which was dubious. I hoped he wasn’t thinking about custard cakes or his depleted wine cellar. Or the fountain.

Tauriel said something in High Elvish to greet Lindir, who replied smoothly back. They both seemed easy enough, so I relaxed a little of my worry for my _amrâlimê_.

“I hope we’re in time for luncheon,” Gandalf said. “And I would like a private word with Lord Elrond, if he would be so kind.”

Lindir bowed. “You are in good time for luncheon, Mithrandir, and welcome. Please, follow me and I’ll take you and your companions to refresh yourselves, and then to luncheon. And I shall pass your message to Lord Elrond right away.”

Lindir beckoned to a pair of Elves, who came forward to take charge of our mounts. I followed Gandalf’s lead, and left my weapons with my pony. The last time I was here, I’d been with my companions. This time, Bilbo and I were the only short ones among all the tall, willowy Elves. They were even taller than Tauriel, but she’d been used to Legolas and his father, who were both as tall as Lord Elrond’s people, so maybe she didn’t feel as strange as I did. If I were going to live here, I’d have to get used to being the shortest one. It wasn’t so different from working caravan duty or smithing for Men, both of which I’d done many times. Still, when Tauriel took the arm I offered her, I hoped that I didn’t look like a child she chaperoned.

Tauriel left us briefly as Lindir showed us to the necessaries. I followed behind Bilbo and Gandalf in silence. The previous ones I’d seen in Rivendell had been so palatial that I’d hardly managed to use them for their purpose. Yes, this one was similarly grand, all beautiful white stone carved with traceries of ivy and flowers, ethereal glass lamps, delicate silver fittings, and glowing porcelain. How could one piss in such a place, never mind more than that? I was used to more rustic enclosures.

“It hardly seems right, does it?” Bilbo whispered, as we tended to business. “I mean, all this beauty in such a place...”

I widened my eyes in agreement. “I guess when you live as long as an Elf, you’ve got time to spend on decorating the...”

“Facilities,” Bilbo supplied.

I grinned. That was a politer term than what I’d considered. “Yah, facilities. Good word, that. Facilities.”

Gandalf gave me another pointed look as he tied his robe shut and strode out. I waited until he was gone, then exhaled.

“It’s like my _Maamr_ is here,” I hissed, drawing Bilbo’s chuckle. “Worse. She never took after me about what I called the piss pot.”

“That’s a wizard for you,” he pointed out. “Oh, just a suggestion...”

“What?”

He pointed to the rows of washbasins. “You might wash your hands in the basin while you’re here instead of looking for another fountain. You’ve got Orc blood on them.”

When he chose his own basin, I muttered something rude in Dwarvish and grabbed the soap. “You’re as bad as he is, and a blabberer to boot.”

Bilbo grinned. “It’s an honor to be considered the equal of a wizard in anything. Come on. I’m starved.”

I washed my hands, and even splashed water on my face for good measure. When Bilbo followed the wizard out, I looked into the mirror, and picked a twig out of my hair. Trying to make a good impression was going to take work, I realized. Maybe I ought to redress my hair. I would have liked Tauriel’s help with that... well, perhaps not. She had a way of teasing me into more when she offered to redo my braids. I raked the twines out and hurried to redo them. I wasn’t adept at the Elvish one yet, but the Dwarvish _amrâlimê_ one was even. Good enough... I hoped.

I sighed. Dwarves weren’t so finicky about themselves, either in everyday appearance or table behavior. I wondered if I’d be able to eat anything without outraging someone. I straightened my coat, scraped off a spot of mud, then followed Bilbo after the wizard. There’d better not be any custard cakes or a fountain in sight of the table, or I’d never hear the end of it.


	3. Chapter 3

The Elf Lindir directed me to the female necessary before leading my male companions to theirs. I was the only visitor for the moment, so I had a chance to marvel at the intricate decorations. It was light and airy, so different from the Woodland Realm, which was completely underground. The colors were brighter, too, and the decorations were more gently curved where Woodland Elves had often chosen sharper, more entwined motifs. I welcomed the chance to refresh myself, and wash hands and face with scented soap and soft towels. I brushed my clothes and reworked my braids so that I’d be a respectable guest at the luncheon table.

I wondered if I should have offered to help Kili with his hair. No, better to have left it alone. He was apprehensive enough about our visit, even though he’d been the one who’d suggested it. Venturing here had made sense, but now that we had arrived, it had dawned on him that he was the only one of his kind in Imladris, and he was very young and spontaneous in a city full of much older, much more sedate people. To have me braid his hair for him might have made him feel even more like a child, or make others consider him in the same way. If he would just mind himself at table, we might manage...

I laughed. Here I was worried about Kili’s table behavior, when mine would be just as scrutinized. I was as much a stranger here as Kili was. My impression was that the Rivendell Elves thought of the Woodland Elves as more rustic, less wise, and less cultured. I would have said the difference was that between a city of peace and a garrison of war, with the Woodland Realm being the edgier of the two. I didn’t remember the last time I’d eaten at a formal table; my usual habit was to take something cold from the guardsman’s table and eat it alone in my rooms. So today, like Kili, I would need to be more refined. I gave my coat one more brush, and went to find my companions.

The wizard and Bilbo were chatting with Lindir when I came out of the necessary. Kili arrived a moment after I did with his usual smile for me. As Lindir escorted us on, Kili leaned towards me.

“Is my braid straight?” he whispered.

I snuck out a hand and gave it a tug. “Not quite. Oh, it still isn’t. It needs another tug.” I gave it a second, harder one, drawing Kili to swallow a yelp. Bilbo looked around at us, but I smiled so that he’d turn back around.

“Valar, maid! You’ve pulled it out by the roots!”

“It’s fine now. Mine?”

He held back a pace to look. “The end’s not right. Just keep walking.”

“Be quick. The table’s just ahead.”

“Then stop. I need a moment.”

I stopped for Kili to do what was needed. Gandalf looked around at us, and I pointed to my hair, which either amused or exasperated him. It was sometimes hard to tell with a wizard.

“Hurry up!” I urged Kili. “Lindir is looking at us!”

Kili settled my _amrâlimê_ braid with a twitch and came to my side again. He took in the Elf’s bemused expression and grinned. “He’s looking at _you_ , Tauriel. And I don’t blame him. You are the most beautiful maid here.”

I slid my gaze to his. “I’m the only maid here.”

“I meant in the city, not the room.”

“I hardly think –”

If you’re _quite_ ready,” Gandalf said.

“Of course,” I said. “We were just commenting on the beautiful carvings.”

No one believed that, which made Kili grin. As we trotted obediently along, he leaned towards me. “I’ll have to teach you _Khazudul_ , or we’ll never get to have a private conversation.”

We shared a private grin as we went into luncheon.

I paused as we came fully into the room to better admire it. The carved wood panels on the walls were warm and light, as were the tables and chairs. Cushions, tapestries, and draperies were varied blues and golds, and the delicate glassware featured twines of the same colors at their bases. King Thranduil’s royal table had been as elegant, but these were gentler swirls and more sumptuous fabrics.

“What a beautiful room,” I murmured. Lindir caught my observation, and turned to me with a smile.

“I’m glad it pleases you,” he said with a slight bow. He nodded towards the long table against the inside wall that held a sumptuous bounty of various dishes. “Please, help yourself.”

Kili and I followed Bilbo, taking delicate plates from the stack at the near end of the table. At the far end, a pair of Elves added large plates of sliced meats and cheeses. Kili’s eyes brightened, for most of the rest of the buffet dishes held less hearty fare.

“That’s a good sign,” he said, and Bilbo agreed, smiling. Both of them filled their plates enthusiastically, as did the wizard. I followed, impressed with the wide variety of tempting dishes, amused when Kili pointedly passed up the custard cakes. Once we’d made our selections, we followed Lindir to a table near tall windows that overlooked the deep chasm that gave Imladris its name. Kili put down his plate to stand by my chair, waiting for me to sit. Impressed, I let him push in the chair for me. I thanked him for his attention, which drew his smile. He hoisted himself into the chair beside me and set to his meal with gusto.

Each of the dishes I tried was delicious. The wine was delightful, too. It had been so long since I’d had such delightful fare, and I didn’t feel self-conscious about my appetite, because a hungry hobbit and an equally hungry Dwarf at table made my consumption look like casual interest.

We were close to the end of our meal when Lord Elrond reappeared with Lindir close behind. He was a very tall Elf, with dark hair, elegantly robed in burgundy and silver, with a silver circlet at his brow. His eyes were the deepest hazel, the color of the forest, warm and assessing and wise.

“Mithrandir, welcome,” the Elf Lord greeted the wizard, who rose to bow. I wiped my mouth hastily, and got to my feet with Bilbo and Kili. “Mr. Baggins, Lady Tauriel, and Kili, welcome to Imladris.”

“Lord Elrond,” all three of us chorused. Lord Elrond met our eyes but briefly, but I felt the strength of his personality take my measure in that brief moment.

“So, Mithrandir, you have come with counsel?”

“I seek it as well, Lord Elrond,” the wizard replied.

“Then, by all means, let us pursue it.” the Elf Lord held his hand out, inviting the wizard to come with him. “Honored guests, Lindir will see to your comfort while Mithrandir and I speak. I hope you will join us later for dinner.”

The lord swept off with Gandalf, the two of them already deep in conversation, leaving Lindir to regard us with speculation.

“I hope you enjoyed the luncheon,” he ventured.

“Wonderful,” Bilbo bowed, then patted his stomach with a smile. “My compliments, especially on the game pie. Just the right hand with the rosemary.”

Lindir smiled. He genuinely liked the hobbit, and his expression was warm. “Shall I bring you another slice, Bilbo?”

“Oh, I’d better pass, or my waistcoat buttons will protest, but thank you. Tauriel, Kili? Anything more for you?”

We shook our heads.

“We’re good until later, then. So if the wizard and the lord are off talking, I wonder if we can show Tauriel a bit of Rivendell, seeing as how it’s her first time here?”

“Of course,” Lindir acquiesced easily. “I would be glad to guide you, or would you prefer to wander on your own?”

“Don’t bother about us,” Bilbo assured Lindir. “We’ll potter around for a bit on our own.”

“Of course. Enjoy the conservatory, especially. Several of the plants have come into bloom.”

“Sounds like just the place to start. Tauriel? Kili?”

Kili held out his elbow to me, and we followed Bilbo from the dining room. Out in the corridor, Lindir turned to Bilbo.

“If I may have a word?”

“Of course. Tauriel, Kili, I’ll be just a moment.”

Lindir led Bilbo off to the side, so Kili and I paused to admire a tapestry. We snuck a look around to see Lindir lean down to Bilbo.

“Please, Bilbo,” Lindir whispered. “Please. Keep the Dwarf out of the fountains.”

Kili winced. I looked back at the tapestry, but I squeezed his hand in commiseration. I wasn’t, however, entirely successful in smothering a smile.

Kili muttered something exasperated in _Khazudul._ “This is going to be harder than I thought,” he exhaled.


	4. Chapter 4

_I’m not sure it’s wise for the Dwarf to stay here, Mithrandir.”_

_“There were four Orcs in the party that attacked us, Lord Elrond. One watched the fray from the shadows, did nothing as we slew his comrades, and then rode east. Why, I wonder?”_

_“Why, indeed, old friend?”_

_“Because it’s one thing for the heir of Durin to slip away from ten of his folk unnoticed, and quite another to avoid the entire plague of Orcs. Whether Kili was recognized or not, he was noted, and speculation will not be far behind.”_

_“I thought you said Kili doesn’t want to rule Erebor.”_

_“He doesn’t. And wisely so. But he is a symbol, and whether Orcs understand the importance of such things, their master does, and will move accordingly.”_

_“You say that he and the Nandor maid are bonded?”_

_“Yes, as improbable as that might seem.”_

_“Who is she?”_

_“The captain of Thranduil’s guard, and that is no small thing for an Elf maid, much less one of her youth. She is also responsible for keeping Thranduil in the battle for Erebor, which would have gone badly if he had withdrawn. He banished her for her efforts.”_

_“And her child?”_

_“Is Kili’s. It’s such things that give me hope in the midst of all that is to come.”_

_“Please tell me that they did not manage that while cavorting in a fountain.”_

_“They did not. Do not underestimate either of them, Lord Elrond. They have both lost their home, their people, and their family. How many in the world could endure those losses and still have the courage to believe in a happy future? They are not frivolous for all their youth, and they will teach us all the value of bravery and hope, as well as joy. So I ask you to give them a place among your people. They are needed.”_

* * *

 

Kili, Bilbo, and I spent the afternoon wandering through the wonders of Imladris. We saw but a small part of the whole, but even that was filled with so much beauty that I was humbled. The Woodland Realm of the Nandor and Sindar was an amazing place with its magnificent caverns, which have been carved and shaped and coaxed for thousands of years so as to be otherworldly. But Imladris was far older, and had not been subject to the wars and deprivation that the Woodland Realm had. Its lord had also kept his eyes looking outward, as well, and featured a lively trade with many peoples. Its variety and richness was greater for both.

It was also a place of light and water, much more than where I grew up, and the lengths the Imladris Elves have taken to nurture that bordered on worship. I was smitten before the first hour of our wanderings had passed.

The conservatory that Lindir had mentioned was spectacular. It had echoes in _Glawar-galad_ , where Kili had labored to repair the reflecting mirrors, for the conservatory was enclosed. But instead of being encased in rock, this was nestled under a vast dome of carved stone blocks and glass panels. It was a protected sanctuary full of rare plants tended by thriving beehives and clouds of butterflies. So much light! The onetime Greenwood, now called Mirkwood, was a dim and shadowy tangle, slowly dying. The conservatory at Imladris was a celebration of health and vigor.

“I have never seen a place so beautiful,” I said softly, touching the exuberant fringe of a flower.

“Hobbits are wonderful gardeners,” Bilbo mused, watching a butterfly resting on a bract. “But we don’t think to build something so grand as this to hold a garden.”

“Dwarves don’t have anything like this, either.” Kili looked up at the spreading trees above us, already in full leaf despite it being late winter. “We never have, even when Erebor was at its height. We’ve built things as large, but we wouldn’t think to put plants in it. I like it.”

“Perhaps it’s the Elves’ long lives that give them the time to think about such things,” Bilbo mused. “Whatever it is, I’m glad they have. Outside it’s still the cold of winter, and in here it’s already spring.”

“Look,” I pointed. “There’s even a waterfall.”

“I’d better not get too near that,” Kili grinned. “I’ve had my fill of falling over, through, and under them.”

“Is that what happened to you when we escaped the Woodland Realm?” Bilbo asked.

“So it did,” Kili said, and we found a small swath of grass under a trailing tree where we traded stories. Kili hadn’t been able to talk about his adventures during our travels here, so I took his willingness to regale the hobbit as a welcome sign that he had begun to emerge from his grief.

“What a story!” Bilbo said when Kili was through. “Too bad I can’t write that in my book.”

“Perhaps one day,” I said. “When enough time has passed.”

Bilbo hummed, conceding the possibility. “Shall we go on?”

We continued on our way through the conservatory, and from there, through streets and gardens. The size of the city was impressive, but also melancholy – Imladris had far fewer inhabitants than could begin to fill it.

“It’s sad, Tauriel,” Bilbo sighed, looking around. “More and more of the Elves are leaving Middle Earth to go into the West. It must be a wonderful place. It would have to be, for what else could tempt you to leave Rivendell?”

“The Nandor and the Sindar don’t have that choice,” I said. “All the Elves were to travel west to see the Two Trees, but not all went. The Sindar, such as King Thranduil and Legolas, are called the Grey Elves because they stopped their journey to stay in the Woodland Realm. The Nandor, my people, were never part of that journey.”

“So you can’t go into the West?” Kili asked.

“I don’t think so. The Shipwright would not let us board the ships. So here we must stay.”

Kili took my hand. “I’m sorry, but I’m glad, too. Because I won’t have to tell you good-bye.”

 _It will be me who must let you go one day, a’maelamin,_ I thought, but only smiled at Kili. One day, he would die, and I would be bereft. I expected to die of grief shortly after, which did not upset me. I didn’t want to live without Kili.

The sun was on the wane when we returned to the hall where we’d left Lindir. I’d seen the forges that Kili had been so enamored with, and the hall of heroes, and all manner of craft rooms, even an observatory to watch the stars. How different it was from the Woodland Realm! Yes, there was singing at every turn, but as Bilbo had described, it did not intrude. It rose and fell as did the water that was incorporated in every aspect of life here. We must have wandered for several miles, so despite my hearty lunch I looked forward to the evening meal.

Bilbo left us in the hall, wanting one last turn in the conservatory before supper. Kili and I found a bench on the landing outside of the dining hall where we could watch the sun fall.

“I’ve been thinking, _amrâlimê_ ,” Kili said as we sat side by side.

I took his hand in mine. “What about, _a’maelamin_?”

He leaned back against the bench and swung his feet back and forth thoughtfully. “I can’t see Lord Elrond letting me stay here just because I ask him. I romped in his fountain, after all. You’re probably all right, because you’re an Elf. Even if he does, I don’t want to be the beggar who can’t put a roof over his head. So I’ll have to give him a reason to let me stay.”

“I don’t think being a Nandor Elf is any more likely to gain me a place than being a Dwarf is. So I’ll have to give him a reason, too.”

Kili shrugged, conceding my point. “I’ll offer my services as a smith. I’ve experience in most metals, even silver and gold, but not _mithril_. Not old enough for that. I can work gems and glass, too. Maybe a little stone work, but not like what we’ve seen today.”

“You’re an archer and warrior, too.”

“So are you. Show them how swift you are with your knives, too. And you’ve commanded. What else can you do?”

My chuckle was self-conscious. “You will find it hard to believe.”

He met my gaze with a smile. “Nothing you do would amaze me, Tauriel. Except maybe embroidery, or some such flibberty thing. You’re not the maid for that.”

“No, I’m not. But before my parents died, I loved to dance.”

Kili sat up. “That doesn’t surprise me in the least. You must have done well at it, _amrâlimê_ , because you are beautiful when you fight. Graceful, no wasted motion, so alive and aware. I noticed the first moment I saw you in Mirkwood.” He glanced at me. “Do you still remember how to dance?”

“I haven’t in a very long time.”

“Even a simple jig or a gavotte?”

“I would probably stumble.”

He snorted. “You would never stumble at anything. You’re graceful and I want to dance with you. Would you indulge me?”

“What, here?”

He got to his feet and tugged on my hand. “Why not? As Bilbo says, there’s always music in Rivendell. No one is watching, you are very beautiful in the sunset, and I’ve been well-behaved since we arrived.”

There _was_ music, now that I thought about it. I got up and took Kili’s hand. “I’ve been entirely too well-behaved, too.”

We stepped and turned slowly around the flagged landing, finding our way together, laughing when one or the other of us went awry. The next dance was faster, but we had sorted ourselves out well enough that we kept the proper time, if not the standard steps. It was a grace from the Valar to forget everything but the sweet gaze of my _a’maelamin_ , the warmth of his hand, the ease of his soft laughter. I was so overwhelmed that I drew Kili down beside me on the bench.

“What is it, Tauriel?”

I looked up at the sky where the sun fell, and then back at my own piece of sunlight. “It is a gift to be with you here, dancing.”

“ _Amrâlimê_ ,” Kili whispered.

We kissed as the sun fell. If anyone watched, I didn’t care.

 

* * *

 

_“You see?”_

_“You are right, Mithrandir. We have not seen such in a very long time.”_

_“So you will grant them a place?”_

_“They shall have their place.”_

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, everyone -- this chapter's got erotica in it. All very sweet, but reasonably explicit. Skip it if you don't like a little interspecies diplomacy. If you go on to the next chapter, all you're missing is dinner and what happens after, when Tauriel discovers the bathing chamber.

The touch of my _amrâlimê’s_ lips on mine was balm. For a moment, the loss of my brother and uncle receded, and I basked in the regard of an ethereal Elf maid. She loved me, and together we had begun a child, and nothing surpassed those, even grief. I stroked Tauriel’s hair, her cheek, my body already rising –

“Ah, there you are,” Gandalf greeted us from the doorway. His footsteps approached, but I didn’t end my kiss like a naughty Dwarfling caught behind the back door. Tauriel and I were one in all but the ceremony, and I had the right to kiss my wife on a public bench.

“Here we are,” I agreed, still looking at Tauriel. “And there you are, Mister Gandalf.”

He half smiled as he stood behind our bench. “We are called to table, Master Dwarf.”

“Coming,” I said innocently enough, but Tauriel swallowed laughter at the look I gave her. I hoped we had the wherewithal to make more of that after dinner. When Gandalf turned back to the dining room, she kissed me again quickly, then took my hand to follow the wizard.

Tonight, we weren’t shown into the common dining room, but a smaller one where Lord Elrond, Lindir, and Bilbo were already talking. The last time I’d had dinner with the lord, he’d sat in the big chair I’d splatted with my cream cake with Gandalf and Thorin beside him, and we Dwarves had sat on cushions at a table sized more to our liking. Today, though, there was just one Elvish table with six chairs. I handed Tauriel into hers and climbed into the one next to hers. Bilbo sat across from me with Gandalf to his left, and Lord Elrond and Lindir sat at the ends. I found one of the floor cushions in my chair to sit on, and Bilbo had one as well. I decided to take that as a sign of graceful Elvish accommodation of their guests, and not as a bolster that a child needed for his first time at the formal table. I gave Tauriel a rueful look, and she returned it with no less nervousness. If I could just keep from embarrassing myself for her sake, I’d be relieved, for I had no hope of doing so for my own.

To my relief, I made it through the plate of greens without mishap, though I can’t say I cared for the strange oily coating on the leaves. Maybe that was to let it slide down easier. In deference to the heartier appetites of hobbits, wizards, and Dwarves, platters of meats and bowls of steaming tubers dressed with cream and butter followed. I ate those with gusto; _Maamr_ had been hard-pressed when Fili and I were small to keep enough tubers on the table, as we were both gluttons about them.

Another reminder of Fili, and _Maamr_ behind him...

Plates of fruits, cakes, and dainties followed. Tauriel ate more than I’d ever seen her eat before, the food was that good... and she carried a child, too. My child. Maybe that wonderful happening was partly the reason for her appetite. I didn’t know how carrying a child affected Elves. I barely knew about Dwarves, as we don’t have children often, given the scarcity of our females. That was another thing I needed to ask Tauriel about. That list seemed to get longer with every passing day. I hoped we’d finish dinner soon and have time to ourselves for talk and whatever else we wanted to conjure. I was tiring of being on display. How good it would be to find someplace to rest with no one and nothing to distract me but Tauriel!

Before that, though, I had yet another thing to do, and that was to settle whether Tauriel and I could stay in Rivendell, or if we needed to move on in a few days. Throughout the meal, Lord Elrond had talked freely with us, but I noticed that he listened quite a lot more than he talked, and his eyes weighed all that he heard with deep consideration. It seemed that he considered me most, so when the table was cleared and small glasses of cordials were brought out, I leaned closer to Tauriel.

“Enough of this talking around,” I whispered. “I’m going to ask him outright. Are you with me?”

Tauriel’s eyes met mine. “Yes. We should be diplomatic.”

I shot her a look. “We’ve been diplomatic all evening, and I’m getting tired of keeping such a short rein on myself. I’d better have it straight out now before I slip and act my age.”

She swallowed a smile and picked up her tiny glass. “My knives are at your back, then.”

I picked mine up, touched it to her glass, and we drank. It was very sweet, too sweet for my tastes, but it kicked as hard as a battle ram. I had to pause a moment before I trusted my voice – thank Aulë for giving Dwarves a strong head for liquor! When it was safe, I turned to Lord Elrond.

“Lord Elrond... sir,” I said when the conversation lulled.

“Yes, Kili?” Those deep eyes measured me yet again, but I didn’t let him unnerve me.

“I’m sure Gandalf, your Mithrandir, has told you that Tauriel and I want to ask you for permission to stay in Rivendell. But I don’t want you to think that I need a wizard to speak for me, and I don’t want you to think that we want charity. Tauriel and I can serve the city as well as anyone, and we’re ready and willing to do so. I’m a good smith in metals of all kind but mithril, but I can learn that in time. From iron for building, down to fine work for jewelry, I can do it. I’m skilled with bow, axe, and sword, and I ride well. I’ve trained as a field medic, too.”

I turned to Tauriel, and she took up the tale. “I have served the Woodland Realm for four hundred years as captain of the guards, and am skilled with knife, bow, and sword. Like Kili, I ride well, and know enough Elvish medicine for fieldwork, but not for fine surgery. I would like to offer my services with Kili’s.”

“She dances, too,” I blurted, reddening when Tauriel looked at me in surprise. She recovered fast, though.

“And Kili is a skilled gardener,” she said, deepening my blush and Lord Elrond’s bemused frown. Gandalf chuckled softly.

“I have had... some small experience in gardening, yes,” I replied. “But mostly underground, which... doesn’t apply here. It was a... special commission.”

“I am gratified at your offers. So I will ask you both what you would like in return for the service you offer.”

I didn’t have to think about how to answer as I took Tauriel’s hand in mine. “A place for my wife and our child. With me beside them.”

“That is my wish, too,” Tauriel said.

“I can hardly refuse two gifted in such surprising ways, even without a wizard’s meddling,” Lord Elrond said, his chin cradled in one hand and his eyes on Gandalf. Far from looking embarrassed, the wizard looked extraordinarily pleased with himself. “It will be good to hear a child’s voice again in this place. It has been many years since we have been so honored.”

I grimaced. “About that... I might as well warn you ahead of time, sir. My mother claims that my brother and I were the worst troublemaking bairns she’d ever seen. Into everything. So I beg your indulgence ahead of time, and suggest that you move the good crockery out of reach now.”

Lord Elrond’s laugh was light. “I shall put the city on guard, Master Dwarf.” He looked down the table at his aide. “Lindir, please settle our guests tonight in a suite. Tomorrow, take Tauriel and Kili through the city so that they may choose a home for themselves.” He looked back at Tauriel and me. “As you might have noticed on your wanderings today, the city has lost many of its inhabitants, and much of it is empty. You may choose suitable accommodations and furnishings that please you, although I do require that you respect the sanctity of our temples and –”

I held up my hands. “Please, don’t say fountains. I won’t go near one, I promise.”

Everyone, even Lord Elrond laughed, except for Lindir. The aide’s expression was a pained grimace, and he put his hand over his eyes. The laughter was directed at the poor aide as much as me, but it was kindly meant. So all in all, I think I did well enough. We left the table smiling.

Gandalf stayed with Lord Elrond, so Lindir led Bilbo, Tauriel, and me to the promised suites. We bade the yawning hobbit good night at his door. Just a few rooms away, Lindir ushered us into a lavish sitting room, where he bade us good night. We agreed on a time to meet him in the morning, then shut the door.

For a moment, all either of us did was stand still in the silence. It had been an exhausting day because of how hard I’d worked to keep from outraging anyone. I might’ve been a prince by blood, but I’d never spent time in any sort of court before. Forges, caravan trains, and guard posts had been my life once I’d left home, all places of rough humor and little ceremony.

Tauriel didn’t require sleep as I did, but she seemed no less weary. She lit a lamp on the nearest table, and we looked around the sumptuous room. Lots of cushions and fine silk tapestries soothed the stone and wood walls. The gear from our mounts, both weapons and personal things, was arranged neatly on a table by the door. I plunked down into a well-cushioned chair and stuck my feet out with a sigh, relieved to let down. Digging in a pocket, I fished out a few nuts I’d palmed from the luncheon table, tossed the first into the air, and caught it neatly in my mouth.

“What are you doing?”

I lifted my head up to find Tauriel regarding me with a curious frown. I tossed another nut.

“Misbehaving. Want one?”

She chuckled, and shook her head. She left me to my snack and stuck her head through the door of the next room. It had a Man-sized bed platform, a sleekly curved reading couch, and another door opposite the one she stood in. When she went through that one, her sigh was deep and heartfelt.

“Oh, blessed Valar,” she breathed.

“What?” I got up to follow her.

“It’s a bath,” she said with positive reverence. “That’s what I’ve missed from my rooms in the Woodland Realm. I had bathing chamber there. I haven’t had a decent soak since I left.”

The bath was a raised platform at the end of the room, done in beautiful white marble veined in greens and creams, and deep enough that one could sit shoulder deep in water. It was big enough for two, with tall windows on one long side that gave a wondrous view of the chasm. I came to her side to regard it.

“It must take a raft of Elves to fill a bath that big.”

She looked at me in surprise. “We don’t need anyone to fill the bath for us. We do that ourselves.”

“How?”

She sat on the edge of the basin, next to elaborate metalwork shaped like golden swans; it was an odd place to put sculpture, to my mind. But when Tauriel turned one of the swans, water instantly poured out of a pipe into the tub. Amazingly, it was hot water. She looked at me with a wide smile.

“It will take a little while to fill the tub, but what a delight it will be then.”

“I’ve never seen such a thing,” I admitted, sitting beside her. I stuck my hand under the stream, marveling at the engineering such a thing entailed. Rivendell surely had enough water for this luxury, but somewhere was a boiler to heat it, and pipes to carry it from the river to the boiler and then to the basin. “Amazing, you Elves. First fountains, now bathing tubs.”

“Oh, Kili, you don’t know how much I’ve missed a bathing chamber. You know Elves are so much cooler a race than Dwarves, and a deep, hot bath is the only thing that makes the Woodland Realm bearable during the worst of winter. The cavern stays at a constant temperature, but the hours of patrols through the forest are chilling. You’ve never soaked in one before?”

I shook my head. “ _Maamr_ – my mother – had a snug enough house, but bathing meant scrubbing in the laundry basin in front of the kitchen fire. When I was old enough to journey for work, it was usually catch as catch can in cold water.”

“No wonder you and your companions ended up in the fountain,” she said, but she was thoughtful rather than teasing, and I loved her more for understanding. “All that water just for decoration... the Woodland Realm doesn’t have such indulgences.”

“I’ve never been anywhere else that does. So, should I leave you to your bath?”

“You don’t want to try it?”

“Of course I do! Behaving seems to be the order of the day, though, so I thought I’d be polite and ask if you’d like to go first.”

Her disappointment cleared. “The tub is big enough for two for a reason.”

Oh and oh, did I want my first time in a bathing tub to be with a beautiful Elf maid? Of course I did. “Shall I show you how fast I can take off my clothes?”

She laughed. As she kissed me back, her hand strayed down my cheek, then down my throat, then fingers insinuated themselves around my ribs to one of the buckles that fastened my mantle of Elvish leaf mail. “I want to do that myself.”

I was so distracted by those fingers tracing across my ribs that I had trouble speaking. “I... have to hold up my arms to... to work the buckles.”

She eased back to unfasten the buckles, and slipped the mantle from my shoulders. Then she started on my coat fastenings. Those were easier, and she kissed me again while she did it. The heat in my body rose like a cloud, and I couldn’t hold still while such a beautiful Elf warrior unclothed me as if I were a present. I found her vambrace fastenings and slipped them off, then her coat, then her cuirass. My coat joined the pile accumulating on the floor, then her tunic. Once she unlaced my tunic and pulled it over my head, I turned aside to pull off my boots and trews. She did the same with her vambraces and boots, leggings, and overskirt. We were down to smalls for me, and gossamer underthings for her. When she reached for my smalls, I held her hand.

“I – I’d better do those,” I said. “Or I won’t last a moment.”

I slipped them off, and watched Tauriel unlace hers. They were palest green. Her skin was as pale as fine ceramic, though marred here and there with the scars of old wounds. Most were pale lines, but the one on her right arm where she’d been hurt defending me in _Glawar-galad_ was still red. If I ever met the Elf who’d given her that wound, I’d see to it that he didn’t mar anyone again. But my _amrâlimê_ beckoned, and I put aside thoughts of all else but her.

Such a vision from the Valars was Tauriel’s long, elegant body, but better, because she lived and breathed! And that smile on her face was far from remote or cold. She took her hair in hand and twined it into knot atop her head, but I took her hand.

“Leave it down. Please? It’s so beautiful, like liquid fire.”

“The braids will tangle in the bath.”

“Then take them out. I’ll take mine out, too.”

She untwined hers quickly, and her touch on my hair was almost enough to capture me right then, because it was slow, teasing. I pulled her to me and wound my fingers in that red hair while I kissed her hard.

“We have all night, _a’maelamin_ ,” she protested.

“I’m not an Elf blessed with immortality,” I breathed. “I’m a Dwarf, and I have only three hundred years, and right now I want you so badly I can’t think of anything else.”

“If you have me right now, what will we do the rest of the night?”

“Did no one tell you the joy of bedding a Dwarf?” I chortled. “Good for the first one, at speed, if needed. But the second and third are better. If you’re a maid who likes the job truly well done, I can offer you a fourth and fifth. You’ll have to tease me for more than that.”

“Is that a challenge?”

I stole another kiss. “Truth only.” I kissed her again, only to pause. “Wait. Our child... we won’t hurt it, will we?”

Tauriel stroked my hair. “No, we won’t, especially in the water. So let’s savor.”

She slipped into the water like something magical. I clambered in with more of a splash. Eagerness, I suppose. Tauriel shut off the taps, and ducked down until her shoulders were covered. As the warmth soaked into her, she sighed in pure pleasure and her eyes shut in bliss.

“Oh, I have missed this!” she breathed. “It is like basking in the warmest summer.”

I ducked under the water and came up dripping. “It’s better. No summer ever found me basking naked with a Elf maid who was just as naked.”

Tauriel drew me close, and I joined us. She wound her legs around me, then her arms, and nuzzled my ear with the lightest of kisses. I held still, teasing myself with the touch of her body against mine, around mine, the warm water embracing us like a cocoon. Her breasts were tiny and delicate as befitted an Elf, drawing my lips. She moaned as I suckled her, which spiked my arousal higher. When she tightened around me, though, it was me who moaned. I hadn’t known that rising to climax needed so little movement. Tauriel swept me away, which took her in turn.

“I didn’t know that was possible in water,” Tauriel murmured in wonderment.

I grinned, kneading her backside. “I didn’t know it was possible at all. You said we were unique, so we did something unique. I quite like coupling like fish.”

“Let’s wash, then we can enjoy the clean and the warmth.”

I didn’t want to let her go, but she coaxed me into releasing her so she could reach the jars and phials arranged in a tray by the bath. They held a variety of soaps, oils, and other things, and she opened them all to sample their scents.

“Here, this is good for your hair,” she said, pouring a steam of something into her hands, which she then smeared over my head.

“It isn’t something for a maid, is it?” I asked, sniffing dubiously.

“Of course not.” She paused in her rubbing and stroked my cheek. “You are my _a’maelamin_ , and I yours. It would be cruel to do that to the one I chose.”

I snorted, but was relieved despite myself. “Dwarves have a different sensibility.”

She looked alarmed. “A Dwarf maid would douse her _amrâlimê_ in perfume?”

“A maid wouldn’t, no. But a lad would. He’d think it was funny.”

She thought about that. “Why would two Dwarf lads be in a bath together?”

“They wouldn’t, because we don’t have baths like this. But if we did, they might. Our maids are scarce. A lot of lads never have a chance with one. So... some lads pair up. It’s hard to spend a lifetime alone just because there are so few Dwarf maids.”

She worked through that as she resumed scrubbing my hair. “The Eldar... our pairings are rare in any form. But pairings between like are not unknown among us, either. We consider it as much a blessing as the more common one between maid and male, because pairing at all is so rare.”

“Then our pairing is even more of a blessing because it’s even rarer. I think it’s getting in my eyes. The soap.”

“Oh! I’m sorry. Duck under the water and rinse it out.”

I obliged, rubbing to make sure it was all out, then surfaced. Tauriel was still thinking about our conversation.

“I wouldn’t want to douse you in perfume.” She played with a strand of my hair. “It would be a tragedy to cover your own scent. You smell like spices from the East. Is that you alone, or do all Dwarves smell that way?”

I snickered. “You haven’t been around many Dwarves, _amrâlimê_. Most of us smell awful.”

“Worse than Orcs?”

“No one smells worse than Orcs. But our scent changes, depending on circumstances. Battle brings out our worst. Beautiful Elf warrior maids, on the other hand, must bring out the best. Now, which potion do I use for your hair?”

She chose a phial. “This one smells good. It’s oil, not soap, so you need only a little.” She poured a drop or two on my upraised palm. “There. Rub it in your hands, and run your fingers slowly through my hair. It doesn’t take much.”

She ducked under the water to wet her hair, surfaced like a sleek otter, and leaned against the edge of the bath with her back to me. Her silky hair was darker wet, but it still glowed like rubies in the lamplight, drawing my touch. The oil smelled like a healthy forest, green and fresh, and it gilded her hair with a subtle shine. As I tended to Tauriel’s hair, her elegant ears drew me to kiss them, and she rewarded me with a soft hum of enjoyment. To be that close to her, that warm, the obvious reared its head, so I drew her hips to me and slipped inside. I had always wanted to try this –

To be honest, until two weeks ago, I had wanted to try anything with a maid, but had never expected to find one who’d favor me, as ugly as I was by Dwarf standards. I wasn’t one to pair with another male, so I’d resigned myself to a solitary life. Then Tauriel captured me in the depths of Mirkwood, body and heart. To go from famine to bounty so fast made her regard all the more humbling, and I wanted to please her however I could. My oiled hands slid over her skin as easily as through her hair, and when I stroked her nipples, she arched back against me, her breath catching. I kissed her nape, explored her gently, found the spots that entranced her most. When she murmured in Elvish, I didn’t have to know what she said to know what she meant. She rose so fiercely that I reacted in kind, until we both gasped in release. I cradled her as she opened her eyes.

“Good?” I whispered.

She leaned back against me, eyes closed. Her hands rubbed my buttocks and thighs in long, languid strokes. “So very good. I can’t wait to see what happens when we actually bathe.”

Laughing, I pressed a kiss on her shoulder. “Tell me which soap you like, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“You first.” She reached for a sponge and another bottle, then faced me to kneel over my thighs. “Pull your hair back.”

I did, and soon had an Elf maid rubbing a sudsy sponge over my chest. She paid enough attention to my nipples that I had to take the sponge away from her. “Valar, maid, you’re greedy! Let me wash before you have me again. Let your anticipation build a little!”

“Then turn around so I can wash your back. Though I must warn you that I like your mane very much. I may not be able to control myself when I touch it.”

Oh, Valar, I shut my eyes and wrung every bit of pleasure out of those long, delicate fingers turning me into jelly as she scrubbed and stroked. I was close to purring when she was done. Once I’d scrubbed my more mundane parts, I had a go at teasing an Elf maid with a sponge until she snatched it from me laughing. I rested in the warmth, happy to watch her finish her scrub. She stood thigh deep in the water, sheeting water and suds, with lantern light shimmering over her body as she moved. I couldn’t have dreamed any vision the equal of watching her.

“ _Amrâlimê_ , do Elf pairs ever lose the bonds between them?” I asked when I’d drawn her into my lap and pressed a kiss to her temple.

She laid her head against my shoulder and shut her eyes. Under the water, she stroked my chest with one hand, and my mane with the other. It was a devastating combination. “Bonds change over the years, growing richer, more complex. But they do not end until the death of one of the pair. The survivor does not always die of grief, but never bonds again.”

“Good.”

She looked into my eyes. “Good?”

“Because I’m glad you can’t leave me. I’d be lost if you did. I’d die of grief, even if I’m not an Elf.”

“You can’t leave me, either. That is a perilous fate.”

Underneath the water, her hands stopped stroking my hair to stroke something else, and I understood what she meant by perilous. “Tauriel, you’re –”

“Am I? I thought you promised me five. We’ve gotten just to two.”

I grabbed her hips and pinned her fast enough. “Don’t tease, or you might get more than you bargained for.”

Her laugh was wicked. “Oh, I hope so, _a’maelamin_. Now, hold your breath.”

“Why? Oh –!”

The maid pulled me under the water, twined her legs around me, and did that tightening thing again until I couldn’t stand it. She had me in seconds. I wasn’t even out of breath before she’d taken me to the moon again.

“You are the most ruthless and insatiable maid in the world!” I sputtered.

“I told you your fate was perilous, _a’maelamin_. You have only yourself to blame.”

“Me? How is this my fault? I want to know, so I can do more of it.”

“It’s the way you look, and feel, and smell, and act when we couple. Your heart is as bright as your eyes. I can’t get enough of it.”

“We’ve been in the bath for only an hour and you’ve had me three times. Don’t kill me before the night is over.”

“Dwarves are sturdy stock.” She traced a hand over my chest. “If you succumb, I wager that I could find something to revive you.”

I had no doubt that she could, and I intended to prove so. I climbed out of the tub. “Let’s see how well you can do that when I’m dry and in a proper bed.”

She let me help her out of the tub. Thick towels, softer than any I’d ever felt, were wonderful to wrap ourselves in until we were dry. I paused as Tauriel combed her long tresses smooth, enjoying how her sleek muscles slid so smoothly under her pale skin. She caught me watching, smiling as she worked. I toweled my hair until it was damp, then Tauriel untangled it, stroking it and arranging it over my shoulders. Tauriel shivered as she cooled, and slipped into one of the soft robes arranged by the towels.

“There’s another here,” she said.

“I’m not cold. Besides, it’s probably too big for me. I don’t think dressing like a bairn in a nightgown is how I want my _amrâlimê_ to look at me. Now that I think of it, I’d better toss my shirt in the bath – my smalls and trews, too. They’re all I have to wear, and they’re rank. Hardly the thing to wear around a lot of courtly Elves.”

She nodded agreement. “I have only one set of clothes, as well. We’d both better see to the wash before we find other more distracting things to do.”

I picked through our discarded clothes and tossed her things to her. Soaping and rinsing took a while on my part, because I had a lot of Orc blood and forge soot to scrub out. Tauriel didn’t have the soot, but just as much Orc blood. I tried not to think about how we’d acquired the blood, and whom I’d left behind, but even the grace of Tauriel’s presence couldn’t dismiss that completely. I was glad when we could wring everything out and drape them over hooks and benches and chairs to dry. Then I coaxed Tauriel into the sleeping room. She looked me up and down, her luminous emerald eyes glowing with sly intent.

“I think I should hide your clothes in the bath more often, Kili. I like you naked.”

My grin was probably silly, but I didn’t care. I caught her in my arms, carried her to bed, and joined us again. “It’s risky, stripping a Dwarf naked. He finds things to do that are best done naked.”

“Exactly why a Dwarf should be naked.”

And so it went through the night. I felt asleep in her arms with the stars shining down upon us, and the faint sound of water to lull us.

I must confess that I misspoke when I warned Tauriel that she’d have to tease me for more than five couplings. I managed six before she showed me how else she could tease me with her kisses.

 


	6. Chapter 6

_“You say an old man, a she-Elf, a bare-footed child, and a short Elf took down three hunter Orcs, Snaga? Give me a reason why you lived and your mates didn’t, and be quick about it, unless you want to be your Warg’s next meal!”_

_“I think the old man was a wizard. He had a staff and a big Elvish blade. The bare-footed one wasn’t a Man-child, and he had an Elvish dagger. The Elves had bows to take the Wargs first. But the short one...”_

_“What about him?”_

_“He was half Dwarf, I think. Yelled like one. Smelled like one. Wielded his Elvish sword like one. Took Griznach’s head off with a single stroke. Took Rukksh’s the same way.”_

_“He was half Dwarf, half Elf?” The captain’s heavy hand clouted Snaga off his feet. “Those two call blood feud. Neither vermin breeds with the other!”_

_“We breed Orcs to She-Men.”_

_The captain’s hand paused for long moments before gesturing Snaga to his feet. “Ride to Gundebad. See if they’ve seen these half Dwarf/half Elf bastards. Report back what you learn... if those vermin let you go.”_

_Snaga returned to his Warg with a curse. It might almost have been better to let his Warg eat him._

 

* * *

 

The stars reeled overhead as Kili and I found so many ways to share our delight. Kili was as new to this as I was, but we’d both heard our share of tales about the mechanics of such things, so we managed that well. What was so delightful was the part neither of us had known, which was how much better the mechanics were when the partners were entranced with each other. Things that I had not understood the appeal of became as clear as mountain water when Kili touched me. He was not afraid to try anything, and was open about what he liked and didn’t like. And I must admit that the heat of Dwarvish passion is more intoxicating than the headiest wine. I had never heard a tale about Elves engaging so many times in a single night, but with Kili, it was easy. Oh, Valar, so easy. With a Dwarf to fire my passion, I could have done anything.

If I am honest, I did do anything. Everything. And so did Kili.

The wide portal above our bed let in the light of the stars, which refreshed me as it does our people. Kili, however, needed the sleep of his kind, and he didn’t get very much of it. But in the morning when the sun reached our bed, he roused with a smile and his eyes a-sparkle. In a breath he pulled me close to couple yet again, as if he hadn’t spent most of the night doing so. Perhaps coupling was as revitalizing for Dwarves as starlight was for Elves.

I found it enchanting.

We spent so long coupling that we had to scramble to dress before we were to meet Lindir. Our clothing had dried well, so we pulled everything on hastily.

“Should I wear the mantle?” Kili asked, holding it up.

“I think it is safe enough here that we can leave our armor,” I decided, and set my cuirass, vambraces, and greaves aside with Kili’s leaf mail and vambraces. “Unless you think we’ll need it to deal with Lindir.”

Kili’s eyebrows went up. “You think he’s still annoyed about the fountain?”

I laughed. “I hope not. But I wonder why Lord Elrond would have his personal aide attend us to choose a place to live.”

Kili laced his tunic thoughtfully, then his smile quirked. “To make sure I stay out of the fountain?”

“You can do that on your own, now that you’ve sampled the delights of a bathing tub. I wonder if he accompanies us to take our measure when we are away from Lord Elrond’s eyes.”

To his credit, Kili didn’t dismiss that as a young, uneducated Dwarf might have. He’d been raised as a prince, albeit a poor one, and wasn’t a stranger to the ins and outs of political intrigues. “A good point. I’ll do my best to do you credit.”

“Me?” I asked, surprised. “Yourself, you mean.”

His grin belonged to an impudent pixie. “I have no hope of behaving myself on my own behalf, Tauriel. I stand a much better chance if I do it for my _amrâlimê_.”

Kili spoke as if joking, but the warm light in his eyes was for me alone, humbling me with the depth of his regard. I bent down and kissed him quickly.

“Don’t let Rivendell change you too much, Kili,” I asked as I bent for my coat. “I don’t want to lose my _ancalima hendi_.”

“What does that mean?” Kili asked, his eyes soft and warm.

Smiling, I sat to pull on my boots. “The brightest of eyes. It’s the way your eyes look now.”

“ _Ancalima hendi_.” He tried it out. “In Khazudul, that’s _ez bryn kaon_. And _bar egraus_ means hair of rubies. That’s the way your hair always looks.”

My hair fell in my eyes as I fastened my boot. “Oh, Valar – my hair! I haven’t braided it. Lindir’s going to be here any moment.”

Kili came to my side. “I’ll do the _amrâlimê_ one. You do the _a’maelamin_ one, then we’ll do mine.”

We’d just finished when a soft knock sounded.

“I hope he’s brought breakfast,” Kili murmured, glancing at me slyly as he went to the door. “After last night, I need a big one.”

I hushed him, but I’m afraid both of us had a smirk on our faces when we opened the door on Lindir.

“Good morn, Kili, Tauriel,” he bowed. Kili stifled a snicker. Lord Elrond’s aide was very earnest, and very serious. I didn’t have Kili’s sense of mischief, but I did hope Lindir would unbend a little as the morning went on.

“Good morn, Lindir,” I greeted, and Kili murmured the same.

“Have you eaten yet?” When we demurred, Lindir led us back to the dining hall, and sat with us as we had our breakfast. Kili hadn’t lied about his appetite, and he helped himself liberally to meats, cereals, and rolls, while I chose fruits and rolls. To his credit, Lindir made polite conversation to keep us company, but he was still taken aback at the amount Kili ate. Kili winked at me.

“Dwarves have to eat a lot,” he observed. “Shorter lifespan, hotter blood than you Elves. At least there’s only me this time. I hope the larder’s recovered since my mates were here.”

A shadow crossed Kili’s face. He recalled his dead brother again, I was sure, but he hid his grief quickly as Lindir mustered a smile.

“For the most part,” Lindir conceded. “We do host members of many peoples on occasion, and our kitchens are used to the different preferences and needs of them. But Dwarves have not been common visitors. I understand our kitchens learned a great deal about the fare that Dwarves prefer from one of your companions, so this time we can serve you better.”

“Bombur,” Kili nodded, chewing. “The very large Dwarf with the strangler beard. Knows his way around a stewpot, he does. You serve up anything Bombur taught you, that’s prime. There. I’ll last until luncheon now. Tauriel, would you like anything more?”

I finished a pastry and got up with Kili and Lindir. “I’m ready.”

“Then we can make our way,” Lindir beckoned to us.

I’m glad Lindir was looking away when Kili took a napkin full of pastries to nibble on our wanderings. I noticed that he took some that I particularly liked, which made me smile.

For an hour or so, Lindir led us through several streets of exquisite structures, a few of which Kili and I looked at. They were all quite elaborate and grand, and while they were beautiful, they weren’t places I could call home. They reminded me too much of King Thranduil’s apartments where I had lived after my parents died, which were rich, cold, and empty beyond imagining. Kili looked at me dubiously, for he was no more taken with them than I. At last, we went inside one of them to confer out of Lindir’s hearing.

“Is this the way Elves live?” Kili whispered. “It’d be like living in a palace or a ceremonial hall where you have to speak in a whisper and tiptoe around the fancy crockery.”

“King Thranduil lives like this. I hated it. There was no warmth. We’d be as unhappy here as I was there.”

“Then let’s give Lindir a different scent to follow.” Kili offered his hand and we found Lindir studying one of the friezes that decorated the walls.

“Has Rivendell got something less grand?” Kili asked in his direct way. “These are beautiful and exalted, Lindir, but we don’t want to live in a trophy hall. We want a home. I’m a smith. Tauriel and I are both warriors. We’re not royalty.”

“No, we’re not,” I agreed. “Something smaller, with a garden, and room to raise our children, would suit us much better. We don’t need a banquet hall.”

Lindir frowned in confusion. “I thought that because you’re a prince, Kili –”

“I’m not a prince,” Kili said sharply, distressed at another reminder of his brother. “I’m a smith, and that’s all.”

Lindir looked crestfallen. “My apologies, Kili. And of course there are many houses that are as you described. There are several just a few streets away.”

I slipped my hand into Kili’s as we followed the tall Elf. “He didn’t mean anything by it, _a’maelamin_.”

Kili didn’t say anything, but he squeezed my hand in appreciation.

Indeed, Lindir had told the truth about the number of smaller accommodations scattered throughout the city. Some didn’t have a bathing chamber with a large tub, and some didn’t have a garden, and some didn’t have a well-placed larder that we’d need to satisfy Kili’s appetite. Finally, it was near luncheon when we stopped in front of a row of dusty structures. Kili ventured inside the first, and I went into the second. In seconds, though, he scampered after me to pull me towards the third house.

“Come look at this one, Tauriel!” he beckoned. “This one’s got a garden in the center. With trees!”

He was right. The trees had not been originally planned for the garden, but the place had been abandoned for so long that seeds blown inside had taken root and stretched up above the roof. The garden beds were rife with weeds, but the trees formed a canopy over half the garden for shade during the day, yet left enough of the sky open that starlight and moonlight would flood in at night.

“Let’s see the rooms,” I said. “Maybe it has a bathing chamber.”

It did. The rooms circling the garden included a bathing chamber, a kitchen and sizeable larder, a necessary, and several rooms that could be studies, bedchambers, storage rooms, and so on. It was dusty and held few furnishings, but the ceilings were some seven feet high, rather than twice or three times that as the places we’d seen earlier. This would make a comfortable home for the two of us, our child, and as many future children as we might care to make.

“I like it,” I said. “Do you?”

Kili looked around. “I do. I’ve never had a house before. Not since I left _Maamr_ to journey. This one feels good.”

“It does to me, too. Let’s tell Lindir.”

We came outside to find Lindir waiting patiently. “This one?” he guessed, seeing us.

“This one,” Kili and I chorused, then chuckled at ourselves. Kili pulled out his napkin of pastries and offered it around. “Worth a bite to celebrate, yes?”

For the first time this morning, Lindir smiled, and he took one of the cakes. Maybe he’d thought we’d take days to settle on something, and was glad that we hadn’t. “May I look around?”

We stepped aside for Lindir to take a look. “It’s quite bare,” he ventured, looking back at us.

“We’ll need furnishings,” I agreed. “And brooms.”

“And tools for the garden.” Kili put his arms akimbo. “And you’d better take me to the forge soon, Lindir. I’ll need to do a fair bit of smithing to trade for what we need to go in our house.” He wandered back through the rooms. “I wonder if the bath still works?”

Lindir glanced at me. “Lord Elrond said that you could make use of whatever furnishings you find in the abandoned houses, Tauriel. There are so many beautiful and useful things that have been abandoned. It would be good if someone used them again.”

I nodded to the tall Elf. “Lord Elrond is very generous. Please thank him for us.”

A loud, agonized squeal of metal shattered the air, and we hastened through the house to find Kili crawling on the bathing room floor. He held up a section of twisted metal pipe. “We’re going to need to find a fountain for a few days, _amrâlimê_ ,” he said, straight-faced. “Shouldn’t take long. A week, I’d guess. Just until I can get this in order.”

Lindir’s eyes widened. “I’ll see the smiths about that for you this afternoon,” he assured us, and I had to work mightily to smother my laughter.

“I... think that Lord Elrond might not mind if we stay a day or two in the room he’s given us, Kili,” I said, taking pity on Lindir. “It will take a few days to collect the things we need to live here, anyway.”

He considered, and looked to Lindir. “Well, then. Lindir, do you think Lord Elrond’s got a barrow I can borrow so I can take my fair wife to market?” 


	7. Chapter 7

_“Half Dwarf, half Elf? You’re daft. Damned Goblin spawn! Take your rotting corpse back to where you came from!”_

_Snaga bared his fangs and hissed, but drew his Warg away. That was the third clutch of Orcs he’d queried, and he hadn’t found a one who’d do anything but snarl at him. If he lived through this, he was going to throttle his captain in a dark corner and gut him for the carrion crows._

 

* * *

 

The next two days were happy and full of bustle. Lindir saw to it that Tauriel and I had no end of brooms, bags, barrows, brushes, and buckets that we put to good use. I hadn’t lived in a house since I left _Maamr’s_ house some fifty years ago, so the novelty of becoming landed was a delight. The house was echoingly empty once we swept out all the debris, but we’d found a lovely bed platform on one of our excursions among the empty houses, a table and chairs in another, and wonderful tapestries and bed linens and fancywork in a third, so we had moved in as soon as the bath and kitchen pipes were fixed, which thanks to Lindir took just a day. I worked with the artisans to understand the mechanics, and was elated when one of them, in passing the garden, noticed a broken fountain piled in a corner. We searched for sign of where the fountain had originally been placed, which Tauriel found in the center of a flagged area. The Elven smiths put that piping right as well. Once they were gone, I wrestled the statue and basin into place.

“All little mortar is all we need to seal the basin,” I said as Tauriel considered it.

“It’s wonderful,” she smiled. I loved to see her so happy. “This will be a beautiful garden when we clean out the debris and dig the beds. Something that you know a bit about, _a’maelamin_?”

I snorted. “We need a few other things first. The kitchen’s still empty.”

“I saw some beautiful goblets and plates in that house where we got the dining table. That would be a start.”

“I’ll get the barrow.”

Tauriel stacked the baskets she’d found to hold our gleanings in the barrow, and we set off down the street. She looked thoughtful, and finally turned to me.

“Kili? Do you know how to cook?”

I shrugged. “After a fashion. A bit from _Maamr_ , a bit more while journeying. Stews and flatbread, mostly. Porridge. A stunningly awful horsemeat hash that I shudder to remember. Do you?”

She shook her head. “King Thranduil had servants to prepare meals. I don’t know anything about the food you eat. I know what greens and plants are safe, but the cakes, the comfits, the elixirs... no. Beyond plates and bowls and goblets, I don’t even know what we need in a kitchen.”

“A few pots, a kettle, some knives...” My voice trailed off.

“I think we should ask Bilbo to help us. You’ve said that he knows how to cook.”

“That’s he does. That feast he laid on back in the Shire was the best meal I’ve had in many a day. We thought he was a grocer when we first met him, but he’s a good sort. He and Bombur used to talk about food all the time. Let’s go find him.”

“We don’t have to look, Kili. He’s coming down the street.”

Tauriel was right; the hobbit was just a few houses away. He walked slowly, lost in melancholy thought for all his attention on the sights around him.

Tauriel’s hand pressed on my shoulder. “Look at him, Kili, how sad he is.”

She was right, and I winced at how lonely he looked. “He was close to Uncle Thorin. Sometimes he was the only one who could talk sense to him.”

“He’s grieving, then. We’ve been busy making our home, and he’s been alone. I had to mourn my parents alone, and it was desolate. I will not let him grieve alone.”

She strode towards Bilbo with purpose, calling out to him. I put the barrow down and followed Tauriel.

“Bilbo! You’ve come in good time. Kili and I need your expertise.”

Bilbo perked up at Tauriel’s words. “Hullo, Tauriel, Kili. Lindir said you’d found a house, so I thought I’d come along to see it.”

“We need you to do more than see it,” she said. “We need you to help us fill it.”

“Me? Really? How can I help?”

“Kili’s told me what a good cook you are. Neither of us knows the first thing about it, so we need help to find the right pots and bowls and such for a proper kitchen. So would you help us?”

A smile transformed the hobbit’s face. “I’d be delighted to. What do you have so far?”

“Just a bowl or two,” I admitted. “We’re off to fetch some plates and glasses. Maybe there’s more with the plates.”

“All right, then. Lead on.”

Bilbo fell in briskly with us, and we were soon prowling the kitchen where Tauriel had seen the crockery. Bilbo exclaimed over it, so Tauriel must have a good eye for that sort of thing. There was a full set of matching goblets, plates, cups, and so on; the plates were cream with green and purple grapevines, and the goblets were clear glass with matching green and purple embellishments. In the kitchen, a large cupboard held a drawer full of beautifully worked utensils made of silver, traced with vines around the handles to match the plates. The cupboard itself was delicately carved and inlaid wood, also patterned with vines, so we unloaded it and managed to drag it out of the house. We got one end in the barrow, and I carried the other, and between the three of us we managed to lug the thing down the street. At our front door, I stuck a bit of old cloth under one end of the cupboard, hefted the other end, and got it into our dining room with Tauriel and Bilbo pushing the dragging end. Then we went back for all the crockery. While Tauriel and I loaded the breakable stuff, Bilbo sorted out pots and skillets and such. Once we lugged all that back, we had a rest in our dining room.

“Well! That was a day’s work!” Bilbo exclaimed. “The cupboard is a beautiful piece, and it will look well in here with the afternoon light to shine on it.”

“I’ll get us some water,” I said as Bilbo wiped his face. “We can all use a drink.”

“Would you like to see the kitchen, Bilbo?” Tauriel asked.

“Oh, that would be a treat,” Bilbo replied, jumping to his feet. “I haven’t been inside a kitchen since I left the Shire, and I quite miss cooking. It can be very soothing, when I’m not hosting a horde of Dwarves I hadn’t expected.”

I laughed as he led the way. “You still served up a feast to remember, Bilbo. Here we are. Quite empty, I’m afraid.”

We’d swept and scrubbed the kitchen, but it was mostly bare. Tauriel had put a few bowls on the shelves, and we had a woodstove with a pile of fuel to hand, but little else. Bilbo looked around with interest, nodding as he catalogued our progress.

“It’s a good room. Lots of space, and that’s a solid chopping block. You’ll need knives and a roasting pan, and at least two deep pans for pies. A few skillets in different sizes, iron if you can get them. A deep stock pot, and three smaller pots at least –”

Tauriel laughed. “You were right, Kili. We need Bilbo’s expertise if we’re to make a proper kitchen. I hope you will show me how to make meat pies. Kili loves them.”

“I’d be happy to. And a good stew. That’ll take you a long way. And scones to go with it. And a bit of salad. Then all you need is a good cobbler, and you’ll have a feast.”

“We have to find a few more pots,” I said. “Then you can show us how to have at.”

“What’re we waiting for?” Bilbo asked. “Where do we look first?”

Tauriel laughed. “You two search. I’ll visit the kitchens and get a few things to make us a good supper, and you can give us our first cooking lesson. If you’re not busy, Bilbo?”

“Busy? Of course not. Gandalf is off with Lord Elrond most of the day, and Lindir’s been off with you, so I’ve been too much left to my own devices the past day or so. If you’ll have me, I’d be delighted to help you make your kitchen.”

“Any requests?” Tauriel asked as she collected a couple of her baskets.

“Some good cheese,” I requested.

“I’ve watched the Elves pull huge trout from the river,” Bilbo said. “If they have one of those to spare, I can make us a nice fry up. So we’ll need oil.”

“I’ll ask for fish especially.” Tauriel leaned over to give me a kiss. Then to Bilbo’s delight and my amusement, she also brushed a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Bilbo. It’s good to have you here.”

He blushed as pink as a rose as Tauriel left us. He swallowed, and glanced at me to assess my reaction.

“She’s a gem,” I said, grinning at the little hobbit’s consternation.

“Yes... yes, she is. You’re a lucky Dwarf, Kili.”

“And don’t I know it.” I rummaged through our sparse supplies and pulled out a half loaf of bread, a chunk of salted pork, and a jar of relish. “Now. She might be able to run off without a bite, but I can’t, and I dare say you can’t, either. So we need a bit of smith’s luncheon.”

“Smith’s luncheon? What’s that?”

I cut four slices of bread, and passed Bilbo two. Then I sliced the pork and turned the plate towards the hobbit. “Dwarven smiths keep something by the forge because we can’t depend on regular meal times. If you’re in the middle of a blade, you have to eat around the metal, so to speak. So bread, cheese, meat, pickles, hard cooked eggs, and such are things you can grab a bite of whenever you have a free hand.”

Bilbo slid two slices of pork between his bread and doused it with the relish I’d put beside the pork. We had our makeshift lunch with some water to wash it down.

“I’ve missed this,” Bilbo said after a while, looking around at the empty shelves.

“What, a bare kitchen?” I asked.

“No, a homey one. A campfire is well and good, I suppose, especially if the fire’s got a kettle of Bombur’s good stew on it, and a roasting potato or three or four in the ashes. The Elves can serve up some delights, of course. But they’re so grand, and their rooms are grand, and it’s hard to find a corner to just have a cup of tea.”

“Or a mug of ale,” I agreed, chewing. “It’s all very elegant and proper here. I spend so much time reminding myself not to grab the rolls or spill the wine that I can’t enjoy the meal.”

“Tauriel doesn’t seem like that,” Bilbo ventured. “More down to earth.”

I shook my head. “The Woodland Elves are Nandor, but for ones like King Thranduil and Prince Legolas. They’re Sindar. Neither is related to these Rivendell Elves. The Nandor aren’t so exalted, which suits me. I couldn’t fancy an exalted maid, though they’re pretty enough. Tauriel’s got a fire to her. What she sees in an ugly Dwarf, I can’t tell you. I wish I could, so I knew what to do to keep her affection.”

“I’m happy for you,” Bilbo said lowly. “A wife, a child on the way, a home.”

I cocked my head. “I expect I’ll have to forge a few blades before I convince all these noble Elves that I’m worth the metal, or chop a few Orcs. Tauriel will have the same road, I expect. But at least we have a chance to have a life here. I need the challenge, to be honest. Keeps me from thinking about...”

Bilbo swallowed hard. “Yes.”

I leaned forward. “These Rivendell Elves don’t understand, do they? I mean, they fight Orcs, like they did when you and I came here the first time. But they’ve never seen those Gundebad monsters. They don’t know how... relentless they are. Do they think they’re so safe here that they can spend their long lives worrying about what fork to use on the pastries? Maybe it’s me – I’ve never had a home like this, and most of the time I didn’t have a fork, either. I’ve been a warrior and a smith and a caravan guard.”

“You’ve worked in the world,” Bilbo summarized, nodding in understanding. “A prince in name, but not in the way you’ve lived.”

“Exactly. I’m not ashamed of that, but I don’t like this lot thinking I’m ignorant.”

“Well, your table manners do need improvement,” Bilbo conceded, “but that’ll come with time. But I don’t think Rivendell is going to think you’re ignorant for long.”

“You don’t?”

“The world is changing, or so Gandalf keeps muttering. You haven’t lived for thousands of years in the same unchanging place. You’re younger, more spontaneous, not set in your ways. You’ve seen a lot of different peoples, and you’ve learned to work with them all. So you adapt to change far better than Elves, don’t you? They’ll need to adapt soon enough, so you can’t forget how, because you and Tauriel are the ones who’ll have to teach them.”

I was struck by Bilbo’s simple words. “Funny, that.”

“What’s funny?”

“Tauriel told me today not to let Rivendell change me too much. I think you just told me the same thing in a different way.”

Bilbo thought about that as he chewed his last bite of luncheon. “There must be something to it, if we both think so.”

“There must be. So, ready to scrounge for cookware?”

“Ready.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a hard chapter to write. I hope I did Bilbo's, Tauriel's, and Kili's grief justice.
> 
> There are translation notes for the Elven and Dwarven phrases at the end of the chapter.

When I left Bilbo and Kili in our kitchen, I headed directly to Gandalf’s chambers. I was gratified when the wizard answered my knock.

“Tauriel! Good morning! You’re looking well. Please, come in.”

Gandalf showed me into his sitting room. It was a bright and airy room, as most Rivendell abodes seemed to be, but I had no time to admire it.

“I need your help, Gandalf. Do you know how hobbits mourn the dead?”

Gandalf’s face waxed with regret. “Bilbo. I’ve neglected him badly the past several days.”

“So have Kili and I. We’ve been so busy setting our home right that I didn’t think of anything else. Thank the Valar Bilbo came to visit us this morning. He’s mourning Thorin and Fili, and I don’t want him to be alone to do so. Hobbits seem like folk that would have a rite, or a ceremony, and I want to make it for him. And for Kili, too. He hasn’t been able to speak of what happened at Ravenhill. He misses Fili terribly.”

The wizard patted my shoulder. “You have a good heart, Tauriel. Yes, hobbits do have such a ceremony. It’s called a wake. Dwarves toast the dead with a _farrar_.”

“You will help me with this, then? Are these complicated rites?”

“Not at all. Both mainly require the presence of friends.” Perversely, Gandalf’s lips twitched in mischief. “And a great deal of ale. Come, let us see what we can beg from Rivendell’s brewery stores.”

He swept out, staff in hand, leaving my curiosity unsatisfied. I was quick to hurry after him.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo and I visited a couple of the houses I remembered with large collections of kitchen accouterments, and Bilbo soon had a pile of things packed into the barrow. By the time Tauriel came back, we were scouring stuff in the sink, wiping it dry, and sorting it onto the shelves as Bilbo directed. My _amrâlimê_ walked in with two Elves behind her, both laden with foodstuffs.

“I’ve a barrel of ale, too,” she announced, as her two companions put down their parcels on the kitchen table. Would you both come help with it?”

Bilbo was right on my heels as we followed Tauriel outside. A small horse-drawn cart was outside with the ale barrel in the back as well as a pair of cheese wheels and a huge ham. We hauled in the bounty as Tauriel thanked the Elves who’d brought everything. She came back in the kitchen as we were placing the ale barrel in the larder with the cheese and the ham. Then we took stock of the other piles of things on the table.

“Lindir spoke to the head of the stores, and so we have a full larder now. The next load we’ll have to earn, but this is good to get us started. I didn’t get the big fish you mentioned, Bilbo, but there are some nice small ones, and Kili, you’ll be happy with the potatoes.”

If I was elated, Bilbo was thrilled. He bustled about, arranging and sorting, and as the day waned he set about the fry up he promised. He did something with apples and spices that smelled wonderful while he marshaled us for the main course. He decided I was fit enough to slice tomatoes, carrots, and tubers; I did that while Tauriel learned the finer points of breading fish in meal. Then we watched him do the actual frying. We didn’t even bother to carry everything to our fine dining room, but sat around the kitchen table to laugh and talk as we ate. Tauriel had wine, Bilbo and I had ale, and life was rich.

“Thank you so much for this,” Bilbo said with a sigh, leaning his head on the back of his chair. He’d had rather a lot of ale, which I suspect was Tauriel’s intent. I’d had just as much, though I was steadier on my feet than the hobbit. “I’ve missed the Shire so much, but this is a wonderful reminder of it, and I have friends to be with, and it’s all just... just... just too much.”

“Then let us drink to friends,” Tauriel said softly, holding up her goblet. “To those we love, and those we miss, and those who pour the ale.”

It sounded like she was quoting something, and Bilbo looked up in recognition. “How – how did you know that?”

My _amrâlimê_ smiled. “All people pay respects to friends, though the words vary. No one else in Rivendell has shared the things the three of us have, so while we are together, it is a blessing to give comfort to each other for the family we have lost.”

Now Tauriel was paraphrasing the words that opened the Dwarven _farrar_ , the wake for the fallen. So she wasn’t merely trying to comfort the hobbit, but me as well. Bilbo bowed his head. Tears leaked slowly from his eyes.

“Thank you, Tauriel,” he whispered. “I’ve had this... this big void inside since... since...”

I swallowed, but the lump in my throat refused to budge. “Ravenhill.”

Bilbo nodded. He sniffed as he held his mug out to me. I got up to move the ale keg within reach of my chair. I filled Bilbo’s mug and mine, plunked them on the table, and slid Bilbo’s in front of him. The hobbit got his in hand, contemplated it, and held it up.

“To Thorin. I will miss you. Very, very much. May you rest well knowing that you did right at the end.”

“Uncle Thorin,” I held up my mug. “ _S’olk ihiam, mi athain. Mo taing_.”

“Thorin,” Tauriel held up her goblet. “ _Namaarie. Lle ume quel, ohtar. Lle naa belegohtar. Quel esta.”_

We clinked our vessels, and drank deeply.

What followed next were stories of my uncle, some funny, some not, but all nostalgic. He’d been father in all but name to Fili and me as we’d grown up, seeing that we were properly trained as warriors, smiths, and princes. He had always been mindful of Erebor’s legacy and the burden it placed on him, but it had been only in the last year or so that the quest for our lost city had come to dominate him. Before that, he had governed what was left of our people with my mother by his side. Not only had I lost my uncle, but also our people had lost a strong and faithful leader. I told most of the tales, though Bilbo had a few. I was struck at how badly he missed my uncle, and was glad that Tauriel had realized it and had sought to comfort him.

“You next,” Bilbo hiccupped, leaning forward to poke at my shoulder. “You next. For Fili.”

I shut my eyes as the lump in my throat threatened to strangle me, and shook my head.

Bilbo grabbed my knee unsteadily and shook it. “Come on, Kili. It’s a wake. It’s our duty to honor your brother. I led off for Thorin. Fili deserves the first word from you. Come on.”

I swallowed. How could I find words for my closest companion, my best friend, my worst tormentor, the one who got me into the worst trouble and then got me out until I learned how to get into trouble all by myself, at which time he became my cohort in mischief?

“To Fili. _Mi bràthair_. I’m sorry I didn’t reach you in time. _S’olk ihiam, mi bràthair._ I will miss you all my life. You were my ally in a thousand adventures, and I will miss you more than you would believe. Rest well.”

“Fili,” Bilbo gulped, wiping his eyes. “You were a prince in more than name, an honest companion, and so... so... so brave.” Bilbo took a shuddering breath, then broke down completely. He clapped his hands over his mouth, but the horror in his eyes was terrible. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! But I saw, I saw Azog... I can’t stop seeing it. It was... Fili knew. But he warned Thorin and Tauriel and me even so.”

Tauriel’s eyes were wet, and the pain in them was the same as in Bilbo’s. She hadn’t told me that she’d seen Azog murder my brother with that massive stab wound through his chest, so brutal a blow that it had killed him before Azog had yanked the blade free. She spoke quietly, holding out her glass. “He was brave, irrepressible, and full of life; a master of knives and blades, a worthy royal prince, and the best of brothers to my _amrâlimê. Namaarie,_ Fili, _i hanar nín. Cormlle naa tanya tel'raa. Quel esta_.”

We clinked glasses again, and all of us drained them. Then we told stories of my brother. Again, I spoke most, and many of my tales were raucous and silly. Still, as I told them, I realized that besides being raucous and silly, Fili had been the better of us two. Uncle Thorin had been tougher on him than me, because he was the heir where I was the spare. But Fili had had a sense of fairness and honor and gentleness with those weaker than he. He’d fought a good number of battles to protect me, and he’d been with me when we saw to those who were crude enough to disparage _Maamr_. I still missed him terribly, and I always would. But I paid tribute to him as best I could.

By the time we were done with Fili, Bilbo was crying openly. I wasn’t much far behind him, but I was able to keep the mugs filled. I don’t know how it came to me, as sodden as I was, but I remembered that Bilbo and I weren’t the only ones at our wake. Across the table, Tauriel sat with her wine glass. There were two empty bottles of red Elvish wine in front of her, and she was opening the third.

“You next,” I graveled, looking at Tauriel as I slid Bilbo’s mug to him. My _amrâlimê’s_ hands stilled on the bottle, so I took it from her to pour her goblet full. Bilbo turned to her.

“Yes, you next,” the hobbit echoed. “You’ve lost someone, too.”

Tauriel swallowed, but nodded. “My parents. Five hundred years ago. I didn’t get to mourn them.”

“Then we will tonight, with Thorin and Fili. What were their names?” Bilbo asked.

“My mother was Athiel. My father was Fillanin.”

Bilbo was very drunk, so his nod was exaggerated, but he held up his mug without sloshing it too badly. “Then to Athiel, for bestowing her grace and beauty on you, Tauriel, and to Fillanin for his devotion, and to both of them for their love.”

“To Athiel and Fillanin,” I raised my mug. “For bringing me my most precious _amrâlimê_ , I thank them.”

Tauriel raised her glass. “To my mother for loving me, and to my father for loving me. I was the most blessed of children. I miss you both, and I will love you always.”

We drank our vessels empty, and then Tauriel began her tales. Despite the amount of ale I’d downed, I still registered how Tauriel spoke as if she’d lost her parents no more long ago than we’d lost Uncle Thorin and Fili, though they’d died in an Orc attack centuries ago. To remember so clearly all this time –

She said she’d never gotten to mourn them. She’d told me before how empty life had been for her since. Was it any wonder that she accepted banishment from that empty life so calmly? It had held nothing for her in half a millennium, but inside she’d still hoped for more. When I’d almost gotten myself eaten by a spider, she’d fallen in love with me. She’d fallen so hard that she’d nearly died in battle to keep me alive, conceived a child with me, and walked beside me into an unknown future in a changing world. If I hadn’t known it before, I knew now just how blessed I was, and how hard I would work to protect her, love her, honor her, and keep her regard.

At the end of her stories, much punctuated with hiccups, nods, and murmurs of companionship from Bilbo and me, Tauriel sang. This was her part of our combined rite, an elegy to the dead. She had a soft voice, lower than many of the Rivendell voices we’d heard, but it was true to the tune and the intent of the night. When she fell silent, the silence stretched for long seconds. I wiped my eyes, and drained the last of my ale. Tauriel’s glass was empty, too. Bilbo had some left in his mug, but he didn’t need it. His eyes fluttered shut, and he was soon snoring. My grin was lopsided, but I was too drunk to tease him. He’d been present through all the stories and the song, and that was all that counted.

“Thank you, _amrâlimê_ ,” I said unsteadily.

“It was a rite for all of us. Now we can face what comes in better heart.” Tauriel had had three bottles of wine, but she seemed as sober as ever. Elves had an amazing tolerance for intoxicants that even Dwarves would be hard pressed to match. Still, her eyes seemed more peaceful than before.

“We can’t leave Bilbo here,” Tauriel said quietly into the silence.

I belched and put my empty mug on the table with exaggerated care. “What’ll we do with him, then?”

“We’ll put him to bed. Can you carry him?”

I got up carefully. “Carrying him is easy. Walking... that might not be.”

“I’ll keep you steady.”

I got the hobbit in my arms without him so much as twitching. Tauriel’s hands on my shoulders kept me straight as I made the long, long journey to our bedroom. I deposited the sleeping hobbit on one side of our bed, and looked down at him thoughtfully.

“He’s in our bed, _amrâlimê_.”

“He is. We should follow suit.”

I thought about that. I’d piled in whatever bed was available with drunken mates before, but including my wife in that ménage seemed... dubious. Tauriel was smiling at me.

“Would you prefer the middle or the edge?” she asked.

“What, you’re getting in, too?”

“I’ve had a lot of wine, _a’maelamin_. I’m a little dizzy. It will do no harm to any of us. I don’t want Bilbo to be alone, nor do I want to be apart from my husband. So crawl in. I’ll take the side so when I get up I won’t disturb either of you.”

I decided that either I was too drunk to argue with her logic, or too tired. I kicked off my boots, pulled off my belt, and climbed over the hobbit. Tauriel lay beside me on the other side. I snuggled her close and was about to tease her about her choice of sleeping partners... but I fell asleep.

 

 

Translation Notes:

 

 _S’olk ihiam, mi athain. Mo taing._ = I’m so sorry, my father. My thanks to you.

 _Namaarie. Lle ume quel, ohtar._ _Lle naa belegohtar. Quel esta._ = Farewell. You did well, and are a mighty warrior. Rest well.

 _S’olk ihiam, mi br_ _àthair. =_ I’m so sorry, my brother.

 _Namaarie,_ Fili, _i hanar nín. Cormlle naa tanya tel'raa. Quel esta_. = Farewell, Fili, my brother. You have the heart of a lion. Rest well.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to say farewell to a good friend, then the pace begins to quicken...

 

_“You’re the bastard who keeps asking about half Elf, half Dwarf vermin! Take your scabby Warg and run back to your rotten trees, you filth! You’re mad!”_

_Snaga barely pulled the muzzle of his Warg back in time to avoid the snap of the lead rider’s beast. He wheeled his mount so hard that it stood on its hind legs, but it still got a mouthful of the opposing beast before he fled into the dark. The deep night was all that kept the other beasts off, for they couldn’t see him against the darkness. Snaga ran hard for a mile, then slowed his cringing beast. Both of them were scared, which didn’t improve their tempers. His Warg wanted to bite him, so Snaga kicked him back into a run to wear out both their tempers._

_Dragging his captain into a dark corner and gutting him for the carrion crows wasn’t good enough for him. Snaga was going to yank out the captain’s intestines and feed them to him before he slit his throat, an inch at a time. Or maybe he’d feed the captain’s eyeballs to the carrion crows first..._

 

* * *

 

My exhausted _a’maelamin_ fell asleep with his head on my shoulder and his arm across my ribs. Beside us, Bilbo snored quietly, equally spent. Gandalf had been right about the amount of ale they’d needed. I’d drunk a daunting amount of wine, as well. But ale and wine had done their work, allowing us to mourn the dead together, to share their stories, and to let them go with respect and honor. Only then could we rejoin the living.

I did not sleep as hobbit and Dwarf did, but I lay beside them, floating on the slippery unreality of so very much wine. I felt the faint shades of my parents, almost as if they were in the next room, but they faded as the stars roved by overhead. Perhaps they knew that I had finally mourned them in the presence of friends, and was no longer alone. I would always miss them, but the warmth of Kili’s body and spirit eased that ancient pain.

In time, my dizziness faded. Kili and Bilbo slept on deeply. I eased out of bed, and went out to the garden. It was still cluttered with debris, and the trees stretched bare branches to the midwinter sky, but it was beautiful even in desolation, and soon would be more so as Kili and I tended it. I wrapped myself in a warm blanket and rested while the starlight did its restoring work.

In time, the sky lightened, the stars turned their faces away, and the sun crept into the trees. I returned inside to wash briefly in our bathing chamber, wrap myself in a thick robe, and make my breakfast. Snores still sounded from our bedroom, so I was quiet as I broke my fast with rolls and fruit and tea. I dressed, and decided to look over the garden while I waited for Kili and Bilbo to rise. That is where, some hours later, Kili found me. He looked rumpled and still half asleep, or maybe he had the morning discomfort that too much drink could cause. I dusted off my hands and went to brush a kiss on his lips.

“It must be late,” he yawned once he’d kissed me back.

“Later than you usually rise, yes. But not later than you needed after last night.”

He hummed agreement.

“Head all right?”

After he indulged in a long, joint-cracking stretch, he nodded. “I’m rank, though. I’m for the bath.”

“Is Bilbo still asleep?”

“Hibernating, I think.”

“He needed it. I think we should go back to the house where we got the plates and bring that small bed platform with the inlaid design here. We can make a room for Bilbo here so he doesn’t have to be alone while he’s in Rivendell. Would you mind?”

Kili shook his head immediately, then grinned impishly. “That’s a good idea, _amrâlimê_. Maybe he’ll do the cooking, yah?”

I laughed. “Maybe he will. Enjoy your soak.”

“Won’t take me long. I want to help you with the garden while we wait for Bilbo to wake up.”

In an hour or two, Bilbo shuffled into the garden where Kili and I had paused to share some cheese. If the ale hadn’t bothered Kili, it had left Bilbo peaked. I beckoned him to join us by the fountain, which Kili had mortared earlier.

“Good morn, Bilbo,” I greeted. “Would you like tea?”

“That would be lovely,” the little hobbit agreed. He eased into the chair beside Kili’s gingerly, rubbing his temple.

“I’d recommend toast with it,” Kili observed, munching his cheese. “Good for a morn’s ale head.”

Bilbo grimaced, “Yes, I think that would be wise. With nothing on it.”

Kili snickered as he got to his feet. He tossed his last morsel into the air and caught it neatly in his mouth. The ability to catch thrown food was an essential Dwarven skill, apparently; Kili had told me that it was all that had kept him from dying of boredom on some less exciting caravan duties. “Won’t be a moment.”

He wandered back to the kitchen, chewing.

Bilbo sat back in his chair quietly, looking at the garden bed we’d cleared around the fountain. “Thank you for last night, Tauriel. I’ll still miss Thorin and Fili, but I feel more able to go on now.”

I touched his knee. “I do, too. I had hoped that we would find solace together.”

“It was kind of you.”

“You are _mellon nin_. My friend. I do not like to see you so sad alone.”

Bilbo nodded gravely, and though his face was very solemn, it was also more peaceful. “It was a wonderful gift. Thank you.”

“About that,” Kili said, carrying a mug of tea and a plate of toast. He plunked them down in front of the hobbit and resumed his seat. “It wasn’t an entirely free gift, was it?”

Bilbo paused as he reached for the toast. “It wasn’t? I don’t understand. This isn’t one of those uncomfortable jokes you and your brother were so fond of playing on me, is it?”

“No,” Kili protested with enough vigor that I suspected that he had played quite a few pranks along the way to the Woodland Realm. “It’s just that we need you to help us haul again this afternoon, once you feel a bit more chipper.”

Bilbo’s eyebrows slid up, but he resumed his toast. “Well, of course. It’s the least I can do. What are we hauling this afternoon?”

“Oh, some more pots, I expect, a table or two, maybe that nice settee Tauriel likes so much... oh, and a bed platform. If you’re going to stay with us, you’ll need your own room. I can’t let you keep trying to crawl into bed with my wife when you’re drunk.”

“Kili!” I gasped.

Bilbo flushed as red as my hair, which drew Kili’s laughter. But the hobbit rallied quickly, and turned to Kili in utter seriousness. “I suppose I must confess it, then. You wife is very lovely, Kili, but it wasn’t her I was trying to crawl into bed with. You see, I have these feelings for you, and...”

Kili’s eyes bugged out and he swore in Dwarvish, which made me snicker. Bilbo’s lips twitched in a surreptitious smile when Kili recognized that his joke had backfired, but his amusement changed to pain when Kili slapped his back in recognition of his score. It was so hard that Bilbo’s breath gusted out of him.

“All right, all right, you’ve paid me well for my joke,” Kili held up his hands. “Well done. You’re certainly not the grocer I met in the Shire, Bilbo.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Bilbo said with an emphatic nod.

“Kili may make bad jokes, but we do want to make a room for you here, Bilbo, if you’d like to stay with us rather than in Lord Elrond’s suite. You can teach us to cook, and have a hand in the garden, and be with friends.”

Bilbo pursed his lips, but I think it was to keep from tearing up more than anything else. “I would like that very much. But only if I’m not a guest. I want to help in the garden, if you’ll let me, and cook in the kitchen, and do anything else you want me to do.”

“Exactly what we’d like,” I nodded, ignoring Kili’s gleeful smile of triumph. If last night were any indication, Bilbo’s cooking would be much in demand from my _amrâlimê_.

When Bilbo had rallied from his ale head, we set out to collect the things he’d need for his room. In the evening, we trooped back to Bilbo’s suite to collect his belongings and move them to our house. He had a few Dwarvish trophies from Erebor, which Kili told him all about on the trip back. We had a simple dinner, but Bilbo had plans for a more elaborate one tomorrow.

Bilbo stayed with us for a week, cooking furiously and gardening with enthusiasm. He took to writing what he called a prelude to the book he planned to write when he returned to the Shire. This book, however, was not a tale, but a cookbook of all his favorite dishes recorded for us to reproduce. He wrote everything down carefully so that his two pupils could follow the steps with confidence. He got some of the Elves to bind the pages together to make a fine book.

He made a second book for our garden. He’d scurried here and there to find many of the plants for our beds, and noted care and conditions for each. He’d cleared a mountain of dead weeds and broken limbs with us so that while our garden was still bare, it was tidy and well planted. Already the protected circle of rooms around the space had encouraged most of the plants to start growing. We would soon have a cloud of bright blossoms and interesting leaves to surround our fountain.

I was sorry when Bilbo prepared to return to his home in the Shire. Kili and I had gotten used to his cheerful presence, his wonderful cooking, and his gentle companionship. He was a kind soul, and we would miss him. The night before he was to leave, we invited Gandalf to supper, and we had a merry feast. The next morning, Gandalf arrived early with his horse and Bilbo’s pony in tow. The wizard accepted a generous breakfast with us, then helped Bilbo stow his bags, chests, and Dwarven war shield trophy on his pony.

As we gathered for the last time outside our front door, I stooped so I could hug Bilbo. “I’ll miss you terribly,” I confessed.

“I’ll miss both of you, too,” he replied, hugging me back. “But thanks to both of you, I’m ready to go home. I’ll still miss Thorin and Fili, but it’s already spring in the Shire, and time I tend my garden.”

“I’ll think of you each time I enjoy our garden. I’ll miss you digging next to me, and talking about cooking.”

“I’ll miss your fry ups and meat pies and cobblers, too,” Kili said regretfully as he clasped Bilbo hard to his chest, but the light in his eyes was fond rather than teasing. “You’d better come back in a year or two to make sure I’ve got the seasonings right.”

Bilbo laughed. “You’ll have so many children by then that there will be no place for me to stay.”

“There will always be a place here for you,” I assured him. “Safe journey, _mellon nin_.”

“Goodbye,” Bilbo said simply, and I gave him a boost atop his pony. We looked to the wizard, who had taken Kili aside to speak softly to him. But Gandalf straightened and patted Kili reassuringly on the shoulder. The wizard gave me an affectionate smile, followed by a surprising embrace.

“Farewell, Tauriel. The road before you will not be easy, but it will be blessed. You and Kili keep each other safe, and keep your wits about you. Rivendell needs you as you are, not as the rest of the city might make you.”

“Safe journey, Mithrandir,” I wished him. “Guide our friend safely home.”

The odd pair of tall wizard and small hobbit waved farewell, guided their mounts down our street, and disappeared into the morning haze.

For a moment, our house seemed silent and empty, as if it, too, missed our small friend. But Kili’s hand came to rest on the small of my back, rubbing gently.

“Do you know what I want to do, now that an old friend has ended his visit?” Kili said softly.

I looked down at him. “Search for the last piece of chicken pie your old friend made last night and eat it in hearty memory?”

He laughed. “Better than that. I want to undress you, carry you into the bath, and remind you why you love a Dwarf.”

We had refrained from such open displays during Bilbo’s tenure. “You know how perilous that can be for a Dwarf.”

Kili’s smile was anticipation, arousal, mischief, and delight. “I do.”

I took the hand he proffered, and we walked sedately through our front door and shut it behind us. What came next was not sedate, but it was quite perilous for both Dwarf and Elf.

 

* * *

 

Over supper that night, I asked Kili, “What did Mithrandir say to you this morning while I talked to Bilbo? He was rather secretive, and you’ve been thoughtful all afternoon.”

Kili winked at me as he maneuvered the trout out of the skillet and onto a platter. “I’ve been savoring the outrageous liberties a certain impetuous Elf warrior maid took with me this morning, and wondering how I might convince her to take them again tomorrow. Or tonight if I’m lucky.”

“Your savoring had nothing to do with what Mithrandir said to you this morning.”

He put the platter of fish on the kitchen table. I was surprised when he bent to kiss my hair before he sat down. It was a tender caress, and his voice was soft. “Yes, it did.”

Seeing Kili’s thoughtful mien, I held silence as I took a small portion of the fish, more of the steaming vegetables, and most of the greens while he poured our wine.

“No ale tonight?”

He grinned. “I thought I’d drink like an Elf tonight. That stuff’s not bad when you get used to it.”

“I can’t say the same thing about ale, I’m sorry to say. So tell me what Mithrandir said that made you think of coupling. That doesn’t seem to be something a wizard would dwell on.”

“It wasn’t coupling he talked about, Tauriel.” Kili regarded me soberly. “What he did talk about, though, reminded me all over again of how much I love you, and want to protect you and our bairn. First, I should’ve asked long before now. When will our bairn be born?”

“Not for many months yet. I won’t even begin to show signs of it for another nine months. Even then, it will be another three months before the child will be born, at the earliest.”

Kili added that up mentally. “So... an Elf maid carries a bairn for over a year?”

“At least. Men are far faster than we. I don’t know about Dwarf maids.”

“I think a bit longer than Men,” Kili said in an uncertain tone. “I’ve never been around a bearing Dwarf maid. I have been around the maids of Men, though – they call their maids Women. I escorted a caravan of wealthy Men and their horses to market once, and the matriarch dropped her bairn in the middle of the trip. She had a fair lot of daughters and sisters, and bearing was all they talked about. I heard an earful, and I was just one of the drovers. A Woman is sick a lot at first, then she’s moody, eats a lot of strange foods, and swells like a ripe melon for months before finally the bairn arrives, which calls for a lot of screaming. Will that happen to you?”

Kili’s straightforward recitation made me laugh; clearly, Kili hadn’t spent much time around maids of any race, or he would know that to put two together often resulted in a bit of creative license. (Now that I thought of it, male Elves did the same thing, but about different subjects, so the sexes were not so different.) But he’d said that maids considered him ugly, which meant he probably avoided them more than not, and so had no idea what they were like.

“I have never seen an Elf bear a child,” I admitted. “But I was well taught about it, because it is so rare as to be a treasure. I suspect that what you heard from the caravan daughters is both truth and exaggeration for their Women, but none of it sounds likely for Elves.”

“What is it like for Elves, then?” Kili asked, popping a bite of fish into his mouth. “Or is this one of those delicate topics Elves don’t talk about?”

“Are Dwarves so open about such things, then?” I teased.

He grinned raffishly. “If you work caravan duty for long, especially as a drover, you learn soon enough how horses couple and birth. You learn how males of most races talk about it, too. Neither is delicate. I can’t imagine Elves talking like that. Not that I’ve met enough to know.”

“As captain of the guards, I heard enough muttering. Little of it is about coupling because it happens so rarely.”

“I pity them,” Kili shook his head.

“Elves are a more... considered race.” I took another bite of salad. “When it does happen, the chatter is usually between Elves who are bonded to another, and of the same sex. A male does not generally speak of it to a maid, or a maid to a male. I have heard a few maids, though, and their words are mostly reverent. It is that big a change, you see. If you do not rise to a pairing, as you and I did, there is almost no comparison. It is all or nothing.”

“I like the all.” Kili cocked his head at me, his eyes full of the warmth I loved. “There was no point of comparison for me before I met you, either. The whole matter was something I was sure I’d never know for myself.”

“So I thought, too. I was not viewed as... suitable in the Woodland Realm.”

“Why not?”

I sipped my wine. “Before my parents died, I was considered too strong-willed. After, I was too angry. Too alone. I spent my nights in the forest, hunting Orcs.” I shook myself back to the present. “But you asked about bearing. It is rare enough to make a child, I think because Elves do not couple the way you and I do –”

“Another thing to pity them for,” Kili interjected again.

“When the child is made, the maid is aware of it early on. It is like a small, growing presence. I feel that now. But I will not appear differently for a long time. I will not feel sick. In fact, I feel as if I were more alive. I will need to eat more. When my bearing is obvious to look at, then I will perhaps need to eat another bit more. Only in the last few weeks will I become unwieldy. Birthing can be long, and painful. But compared to the length of time the child grows within me, it will not be so bad.”

“So you can hunt, ride, couple, and do anything else you want without hurting our bairn for many months to come?”

“Yes. If I think something would hurt it, though, I would not do it.”

Kili nodded, his mood sobering. He took several bites of fish and vegetables in silence before meeting my eyes. “So I’ll tell you what Gandalf said to me now.”

I finished my greens and gave him my full regard. “Yes?”

Leaning back in his chair, Kili considered his goblet. “Those Orcs that came after us the day before we came here?”

I nodded.

“There was a fourth one we never saw. Gandalf did, though. He said the Orc watched us finish his mates without lifting a finger, then rode off, maybe to tell someone about you and me. You’re not a Rivendell Elf, and I’m not an Elf at all despite being tall, dark, and slender compared to my kin. He told me we needed to keep our guard up, and to keep ourselves well trained, I assume he meant as warriors. He also said that it was important for us to be here, because the Elves would need us soon.”

I thought about that. “Just before he left, he told me that Rivendell needs us as we are, not as the rest of the city might make us. What will the Elves need us for?”

Kili rolled the stem of his goblet between his fingers. “I don’t know. But Bilbo said to me that I’d learned to adapt because I had to make a living – I had to get along with whoever hired me for work. The Elves here have never had to do that. They don’t know how to change.” He flicked me a glance. “You do, though. In the Woodland Realm, you had to adapt your guardsmen every day to meet the changing forces against you.”

“Then let us plot strategy, _a’maelamin_.”

His eyes brightened with interest. “How so?”

“I assume you asked about the bearing habits of Elves to see whether it would keep me from the duties of a warrior.” He nodded. “So both of us are fit to serve. I think we should present ourselves to Lindir and ask to be put on the guard.”

“It won’t be easy, _amrâlimê_. Even if they don’t care that we’re different, these Rivendell Elves don’t fight like we do, and they won’t see the reason for the difference.”

“You are right. You have been in the Woodland Realm. You saw how we fought the spiders and Orcs. Every day, on foot, in the trees, hand to hand. Bow, knives, swords. Here, they fight much less often. When they do, it is on horseback against Mirkwood Orcs on Wargs. My knives won’t be much of an asset.”

“But your bow will be, and so will mine. You wield a sword well. How well do you ride? That’ll be where I come up short, to put it in a word.”

“I ride well enough, but likely not as well as the guardsmen here. We will both need to practice.”

“Where we’re the better fighters is on foot and in the trees, then.” He thought. “There are trees throughout Rivendell, but I think their skirmishes are out on the plains rather than inside the dell itself.”

I considered. “When you ask for work, do those who hire you test your fitness?”

“Sometimes,” Kili replied. He pointed to the cake beside our plates and raised his eyebrows in inquiry. At my nod, he sliced a piece for me, helped himself to another, and leaned back to munch his treat. “When I first started out, Uncle Thorin or Dwalin took me along as unskilled labor. I did a lot of watching the ponies, cooking the food, guarding the caravan at night, pumping the bellows, that kind of thing, at first. That’s how I learned. Once I got on, I moved up to simple ironwork at the forge, drover, a bit of masonry, that sort of thing, and the seniors would vouch for me in negotiations. In between contracts, in the Blue Mountains with _Maamr_ , I learned finer smithing, glasswork, jewelry casting, horse training, even a bit of toy making or tinkering, anything to make a living. Master Dwalin made sure my weapons work was up to snuff so I could fight, but I’d still have to drill to show I was competent if a contract was for arms work. I was good at the forge, so Balin got me a place with a sword smith to learn that because that pays well. After a while, I was known well enough to a regular circle of merchants or horsemen who hired Dwarves so I wasn’t asked to prove my skills as often.”

 “So would you expect the Rivendell guard to test us?” I asked, nibbling my cake.

“Without a doubt.”

“Do you know how they would test us?”

“I’d guess basic sword drills, targets for archery, probably targets for your knives and my axe. If they’re feeling superior, they’ll try hand to hand.” Kili’s face spasmed in sly humor, and he cocked his head at me. “They’re taller than we are, even you, _amrâlimê_. They’ll use that. So I think I should reveal an ancient Dwarven relic to you.”

He got up, rummaged in our cooking tools, and pulled out a heavy iron soup ladle.

“A soup ladle is an ancient Dwarvish relic? How? Do you try to impress an enemy with how fast you can eat his supper?”

With a laugh, Kili swung the ladle around by its curved handle, flipped it in his hand, and tossed it to me. “Catch.”

I did easily enough.

“Now toss it back.”

I did, right into his waiting hand. His smile waxed wider. “That was good.” He tossed it again, and I returned it. “I exaggerate only a little. It’s not usually a soup ladle we use. Some kinds of meat hooks will do if they’re long enough, but I haven’t seen one of those in our gleaning yet. This’ll do until I can make us a pair of the real tools. It’s one way for a Dwarf to compensate when he fights a taller opponent.”

“Show me.”

Cramming the last bit of his cake into his mouth, he beckoned me into the garden, picking up his sword as we went. “You’ll need yours so I can show you properly.”

I took mine up readily, and arranged myself opposite Kili on the flagstones.

“Men, Orcs, and Elves are all taller than I am, which means they have a longer reach, yes? When they swing at me, I can’t get inside their blade to do any damage without help. This,” he swung the ladle, “ is the help. Come at me slowly, because I don’t want to damage your blade.”

I pantomimed a sweeping blow at Kili. He had the ladle in his off hand, and when my sword fell in its arc, Kili brought the ladle down vertically to shove the tip of my sword towards the ground. That left a clear path for his sword to dive at me.

“I see! You deflect my blade down, which leaves me open.”

“Exactly. Some Dwarves put a hook on their shields to do the same thing, or use a hooked axe as their second arm. I’m an archer, so I don’t carry a shield. I had a nice hook I’d smithed years ago, but I lost that to your King Thranduil, I’m sorry to say. It’s one of the first things I’ll make when I get a chance. I’ll make you one, too.

We traded the ladle back and forth until I had a sense of how to use it. Kili showed me a few variations of the downward sweep he’d used. One of them required exquisite timing, where he jumped high and swung the ladle to clear the blade away, which let him either run his opponent through with his blade, or knock him over with feet to the chest. I liked that one so much that I practiced it several times while Kili watched. I nodded in satisfaction and tossed him the ladle. “This will help us, and should be unexpected. After what Gandalf and Bilbo said, unpredictability is our ally.”

Kili shook the hair out of his eyes with a quirky smile. “Then let’s get a night’s sleep – or a full measure of starlight, in your case – and see Lindir first thing in the morning.” 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter, but full of action, so thank you for sticking with it.
> 
> Language translation:
> 
> Leshon burk = sacred axe  
> Comys thoyn = is very rude, and I'll let Kili explain it in its own time :-).

Tauriel and I had a hearty breakfast early the next morning. We were both eager to see what the day brought, and if we’d fit in with the Elves whose city we’d adopted. I enjoyed the quiet moments with Tauriel as we carefully worked the braids in our hair. I stuck with my usual plain plait at the center back of my head, with my _amrâlimê_ and _a’maelamin_ braids on either side. Tauriel, however, shook out the looser braids she’d worn since we’d moved to our house, and replaced them with the tighter warrior dressing that kept her long tresses out of her face, and added the _amrâlimê_ and _a’maelamin_ braids that matched mine. We dressed carefully in our armor, and buckled on swords, knives, and bows. I slid a nice boot knife I’d found in our gleaning inside the hidden sheath of my right boot, and then stuck the soup ladle in my belt under my coat to keep it our secret for as long as possible.

“What do you think of bypassing Lindir and just going right to the armory?” I asked as I pulled my sword buckler on.

Tauriel thought about that, but shook her head. “We can fall back on that if we find that we cannot get Lindir to introduce us. But I would go to him first. We will grant the Rivendell Elves courtesy at first. If they prove unworthy of it, we can apply directly, and the onus of disrespect will be on the Elves’ shoulders, not ours.”

I nodded. I’d made my suggestion not out of personal preference, but to see what Tauriel thought. “That’s good. It’s good to have a captain of the guards on my side. You know how the officers think. I know how the ranks think. About that...”

I put my hand on her arm. “I don’t know what your Woodland Realm guardsmen were like, or if you’ve ever had to try for a contract. Sometimes hiring on requires an initiation, and some of them are rough. The test can be a cheat, too, if someone wants to make you look bad, and if you thwart that, they may try to come back at you. Keep a close eye. Don’t let yourself get backed into a dark corner.”

“Respectful, but strong and adaptable. And we watch each other’s backs,” Tauriel summarized in a grim tone. I remembered the implacable glare she’d shot me the first time we’d seen each other, and half wanted to see a Rivendell Elf blanch at its heat. But more was at stake than a chance for me to see my wonderful maid prove her skills, so I set my resolve to earn respect, not defeat enemies. “Ready?”

“Time for the game,” I agreed with an impish grin. I took Tauriel’s hand and stretched up to kiss her. “It might be a while before I can do that again. You are my _amrâlimê_ , and I yours.”

Tauriel didn’t have to tell me that my gesture touched her, for it shone in her emerald eyes when she put her hand against my chest. “You know what lies here, _a’maelamin_. Good hunting.”

“Yah.”

We set out, threading our way through the deserted houses that lay between our home and the center of Rivendell where we hoped to find Lindir. It was still early, clear, and cold, but the smell of spring mingled with the moist air. The rising sun sent slanting rays through the beautiful structures and graceful trees, and here and there the tall, thin figure of an Elf slipped in and out of the shifting light like a shadow. The light here was so different than any I’d seen elsewhere – brighter, greener, more variable, making Imladris look as elusive as a dream. We crossed over bridges and walkways intertwined with the ubiquitous streams and waterfalls that gave the city its distinctive sound. Eventually we came to the terrace where we had danced before dinner the first night we’d gotten here, and from there we traced our way through towards Lindir’s office. The tall Elf met us partway, on his way to another part of the city.

“Tauriel, Kili, good morn,” Lindir bowed to us, and we bowed in kind. “Were you coming to see me?”

Tauriel nodded. “We were. Would you introduce us to the captain of your guard? Our home is well settled, and Bilbo and Gandalf have left to make their way to the Shire. So we are both eager to set to work as we agreed.”

Lindir looked surprised. “I hadn’t expected you for some days yet. But I am glad that you have settled so quickly. Lord Elrond asked me to see to your introduction when you were ready, however, so we may make our way to the armory now.”

Tauriel shot me a suspicious look; I was of the same mind. I’d wager Lord Elrond had kept an exact account of how long it had taken Tauriel and me to appear. “Lead the way,” I said with enthusiasm.

Lindir took us to part of the city that I’d wandered through only briefly during my first visit. It was the lowest part of the valley, where the land was flatter and even greener than the heights, if that were possible. Past the buildings were rich fields lying fallow for the winter. When I asked what kind of crops were grown there, Lindir explained how the Men that lived there farmed the greens and other items that the Elves ate, and raised sheep, goats, and other livestock, primarily for the fibers that went into the Elves’ textiles. Elves didn’t tend their own crops, which surprised me, given their extraordinary awareness of nature; rather, they traded their exquisite jewelry, weapons, finished textiles, glassware, ceramics, and other arts for foodstuffs and raw materials. Allowing men as tenant farmers in the valley ensured a steady food supply that would not be threatened even if Orcs surrounded Rivendell.

I considered that a good sign that the Elves could adapt when pressed... but then, I didn’t know how long this agreement between Rivendell and its tenants had been in effect. Allowing newcomers into the guard might not be welcomed so readily.

A large, well-fortified hall with a sizeable, flat green field behind it was the armory. I’d seen a smaller building that held some arms above in the heart of the city, but from the size of this one, this one likely held practice grounds, smithing facilities, and stables as well as arms storage. As all of Rivendell was, this hall was beautifully crafted in wood and stone, with twin carved friezes of warriors on foot and on horse to either side of the main door. The back door was wide and tall enough to allow four mounted Elves abreast to pass, so likely a stable lay behind it. Today the doors were closed against the chill, but tracks above and below the doors revealed how the doors could fold back upon themselves. Lindir led us to the main door, which was smaller and well fortified between the freizes, and ushered us inside.

“ _Leshon burk_ ,” I whispered, looking around in awe, and beside me Tauriel was similarly impressed. I’d seen many dingy, filthy, dark garrisons, but this was nothing like them. Even in this place of armament and war, the Elves’ love of beauty and ethereal design was everywhere. The racks that held long, deadly pikes, heraldic pennants, and hunting horns were sturdy wood, but carved lovingly with elongated swirls and tendrils. Above, deep arches and high ceilings seemed more in place in a fabulous king’s hall than a practical armory, and high, glassed windows cast colored lights onto the floors and walls. Large windows on every side also let in abundant light, but tall shutters to either side were ready to seal them against threat if need be. Beyond the arms racks, practice areas were laid out, some already hosting sparring pairs despite the early hour. To one side were rooms with tables for eating and conferring. I smelled fresh straw, leather, and horses, and cold iron. The stable and farrier’s stand were likely beyond the practice areas.

“This is wonderful,” Tauriel said, looking around, and I murmured honest agreement. “Beautiful, yes, but well laid out and practical as well.”

Lindir smiled. “The Master will appreciate your words. Come, let us find him.”

He led us to the back of the hall and into the garrison room. A few Elves turned to look at us in curiosity, but Lindir led us straight to the table at the back where a tall, brown-haired Elf with bright blue eyes leaned over a sheet of parchment.

“Oteriel,” Lindir greeted, his hand over his heart. “Good morn to you.”

The Elf looked up, taking the two of us as well as Lindir in a sweeping glance. He was not in armor, but sturdy sueded working leathers, albeit elegant ones in a green that was not as muted as the shade Tauriel wore. His glance was assessing, not immediately dismissive, but not as considered as I would have liked. Too set in his ways, perhaps, but kept my face impassive. I couldn’t act like a rogue if I wanted to make a place here for Tauriel and me.

“Lindir, good morn to you, and your companions. This is the Nandor and Dwarf I have heard of?”

It didn’t surprise me that word had gone around about us. We were a novelty in a place that never changed, and everyone likely had an opinion about it.

Lindir turned towards us. “May I present Tauriel and Kili? Tauriel and Kili, this is Oteriel, Lord Elrond’s Master at Arms.”

Oteriel’s bow was courteous, so I matched Tauriel’s bow in acknowledgement. “You are from the Woodland Realm?”

Tauriel nodded. “I was.”

“You were the captain of King Thranduil’s guard for four hundred years.” She nodded. “What caused you to leave after so long a stretch?”

Tauriel didn’t flinch. “War came.”

“Meaning?”

“We fought but a single battle in that war. The king was loath to engage even that much. He is the king, and I bowed to his decision, but I don’t think it is wise to remain behind the Woodland Realm’s walls and hope that a single battle will deter our enemies. It’s hard to preserve our lands when our warriors are not allowed to take the proper steps to defend it.”

That was diplomatically worded, and avoided the fact that Tauriel had directly defied the king for wanting to execute me, and for wanting to withdraw at Erebor – she’d called him a coward, too.

“You prefer a more aggressive approach?”

“Have you engaged a pack of Gundebad Orcs?”

“I’ve not had the pleasure.”

“They are not like Mirkwood Orcs, who attack in small groups and in stealth. Gundebad Orcs are specially bred, and are much larger, more aggressive, and smarter. They attack in great numbers, and do not withdraw after losing a single battle, no matter how costly that loss. Retreating gives them more time to plan their assaults. I do not like to give them that time, because more of our people die.”

Oteriel’s gaze flicked to me. I was used to having folk stare at me, and met his eyes without a blink. “You are one of the Iron Mountain Dwarves.”

I shook my head. “Blue Mountains.”

“Yet you bear Elvish armor and arms.”

“Mine were lost in the war. These have served me well, though.”

“You are an archer? Unusual for Dwarves.”

“It’s true, you don’t see many Dwarves carry bows east of the Blue Mountains. They’re much more common in the mountains where we use them on the plains to guard our horses, ponies, and sheep. Wolves and other things prey on our stock, and it’s far easier to fend them off with a bow than a pike or sword.”

That seemed to sink in, but his next words made me clench my teeth. “You are a capable smith, I suppose? Horseshoes, nails, that sort of thing?”

“As well as iron, steel, blades both short and long including swords, fine metalwork for inlays as well as jewelry, and ringed steel for mail work. I can smith most things folk need for home and hearth, as well as for war.”

“Some skill with an axe, I expect.”

“Axes short and long, blades short and long, my bow, pikes, staff, and anything else that comes to hand – my hands, too, if it comes to that.”

“And you?” He flicked his gaze back to Tauriel. She was waiting for him, though, and answered immediately.

“Bow, sword, and other blades. My expertise is especially high with these.” Her knives were in her hands as fast as if she’d magicked them there.

At least that got a flicker of interest from Oteriel. “May I?”

Tauriel presented one of the blades to him hilt first. It was a beautiful weapon, well suited to my _amrâlimê_ , with a sweeping cutting edge and a shaped hilt that could be held back against the wrist as well as forward. Unlike Rivendell blades, the steel of her knives was cut out in places to reduce weight without sacrificing strength, and as all Elvish things were, it was elegantly designed and expertly balanced. Oteriel hefted it, appreciative of the balance, but from the way he held it, he hadn’t grasped how it could be wielded two ways.

“A close range weapon.”

He seemed dismissive as he returned the knife to Tauriel. She received it, easily flipped it to the reverse grip, and mimicked a slash to the side. “Mirkwood is full of trees and vines, with narrow paths. There, only the first approach between enemies allows us to use our bows. The rest of the fight is at close range against great spiders and Mirkwood Orcs. Some parts of the forest are so close that even short swords are too long, and tangle in the vines and underbrush. These work well.”

She slid it back smoothly into its sheath at her back with practiced ease. That wasn’t lost on the master, whose smooth face finally showed a hint of interest.

“I would be most interested to see them in use, as well as an Elven bow in the hands of a Dwarf.”

Tauriel nodded gracefully, but as an equal, not as a subordinate. I smothered a smile. She was used to maintaining her grace in the face of King Thranduil’s imperious temper, and so far Oteriel had shown only boredom, not arrogance. “At your convenience,” she said serenely.

“With pleasure,” I echoed in my mildest tone.

Lindir bowed to Oteriel. “You will excuse me, Oteriel.”

“Of course, Lindir. I appreciate your introduction.”

Oh and oh, there was dry humor in that measured response, but I didn’t know if it was directed at Lindir’s master or us.

As Lord Elrond’s aide took his leave, Oteriel gestured for us to follow him onto the practice grounds. We followed in silence, but I was aware of the hall’s other denizens pausing to watch our progress. I didn’t sense open hostility, mostly surprise and curiosity. Still, I noted where they were, just as I did every time I felt a pub fight brewing. It was always good to know where the door was, who stood between it and me, and what weapons they bore.

Oteriel led us to an archery area, so that was to be our first test. Both Tauriel and I were more than competent there, so I wasn’t concerned – though I told myself sternly not to get cocky. I heard Dwalin’s growl in my thoughts: _Assume nothing, Kili. This is not like any contract test you’ve ever taken, so stay sharp._

The first part went as I expected, just standing at a line to shoot. I took pains as if Dwalin stood behind, and even with an Elven bow I did well. Tauriel was just as accurate, and we exchanged smiles at the end. It got harder, though, when Oteriel pointed us to the long Rivendell bows. They were longer than I was tall, but that didn’t deter me. Many Dwarves preferred to shoot with the bow held horizontally, and Dwalin had drilled me in that technique. The bows were stiff, too, and the arrows heavier, but no problem for a Dwarf. Tauriel was only a bit taller than the bow, but she was strong, and though she was not quite as accurate with this one as her own, she held her own.

We moved on to target practice with knives and axes. Tauriel was lethal with her knives, and after watching me with an axe got it to spin correctly to hit the target, though her accuracy needed refining, as did mine with knives. Sword work was next, which got interesting when Oteriel gestured two Elves to partner us, both very tall. We were to use wooden wands rather than steel, as wise precaution for all concerned, but I expected that the soup ladle was about to come into its own. Before we started, I beckoned to Tauriel.

“If we work as a pair against them, I can toss you the ladle if I need to.”

She grinned, and the light in her eyes was steely, reminding me of the fiery Elf who’d smitten me in Mirkwood. “Yes. It’s time we take the game to them, _a’maelamin_.”

I tapped her wooden wand with mine. “Good fight, _amrâlimê_.”

We set up side by side, each in our stances, and let the Elves come to us. Sure enough, mine made the mistake of thinking a short opponent was an easy opponent. I pulled out the ladle, hooked his wand, put its point in the dirt, and thwacked him soundly in the ribs. When he fell, I charged in to put a foot on his chest and the end of my wand at his throat. Tauriel, meanwhile, had let her Elf pass her by with a feint, whirled around, and launched herself at him before he was fully around. He barely deflected her blow, but was agile enough to get himself around to face her.

“To your left!” I shouted, tossing the ladle. She snatched it out of the air, leaped, winged it around, knocked the Elf’s blade aside, and put both feet in his chest. He fell like a tree, and quickly found Tauriel on his chest, her knife at his throat. I shouted enthusiastically at her decisive score. Even surly Dwalin would have found no fault in her performance.

“Impressive,” Oteriel pronounced drily.

I offered my opponent a hand up, which he took with more surprise than courtesy, but I let it go. Surprise was good enough for me. Tauriel, too, extended the hand of courtesy to her opponent, who gave her a chagrined nod when he was upright. We both bowed to our opponents so as not to leave out any courtesy due on the practice field – and so they had no reason to think we were unschooled, either. As she sheathed her knife, Tauriel caught my gaze and winked.

“I think we can leave further sparring until later,” the master said in the same dry tone. He looked us up and down, but I still couldn’t tell whether he was impressed, bored, or angry. “You both ride, of course?”

Oh and oh, the bastard had raised the stakes in his game. Until I knew what part of riding a horse he wanted to test, I wouldn’t know how to respond.

“I do,” Tauriel nodded.

“I’m better at ponies and battle rams,” I said, shrugging as I admitted the obvious. “But I can compensate for a horse easily enough.”

Tauriel shot me a look, but I winked at her, telling her not to worry yet. Her eyes warmed, then she turned back to Oteriel with a calm expression.

“Let’s see how well you can,” Oteriel said entirely too smoothly. Ah, he was irritated at how quick Tauriel and I had been with the wands, and wanted us back on uncertain footing. I’d do my best to keep that from happening, not because I cared what he thought, but because I wanted Tauriel to be proud of me.

Oteriel led the way to the back of the hall. Half a dozen Elves trailed us, with more coming behind. Were they just curious, or angry? I walked close to Tauriel, nudging her, but she’d already seen the followers. Her eyes counseled patience as she handed the ladle back to me, so I nodded, hooked the ladle in my belt, and kept one eye on where they all were as we walked into the stables.

“This is a fine stable,” I said admiringly. “I wish all horses were so lucky to be housed in such a place. You love your horses a great deal, I think.”

Oteriel turned back to look at me in surprise, but as I had only spoken the truth, my smile was genuine. “I thank you,” he returned, and perhaps his tone was a little milder. “We do love our horses, it is true. They are brave and equal partners to our riders. Perhaps you would like to choose your mount?”

“I’m honored,” I gave him the ubiquitous bow. “I’ll not choose one that’s just come off patrol, out of concern for the horse.”

“I thank you again. Please, both of you are free to choose a mount.”

I thought I knew where this path would lead. They’d let me choose a horse, and then expect me to saddle it, knowing full well that I’d be too short to do so. But I’d spotted a sizeable bench at the end of the stable, so had a plan to deal with that if I’d guessed right. In the meantime, Tauriel and I passed up and down between the stalls to look at the horses. Tauriel found a beautiful chestnut mare that suited her, and sure enough, tack was brought for her to put on the horse. I took longer only to think about the bench I’d need to get the saddle over the back of the horse. The mounts were all very tall, as befitting the tall Elves, so I looked for one who looked intelligent, steady, and friendly. A dark black gelding seemed well suited, so I led him out. Tauriel was murmuring to hers, which was good sense. I stood by the horse’s head where he could see me, and stroked his nose gently.

Yes, here came the tack. I let the Elf stand behind me while I introduced myself to the horse. I kept my eyes on him as I asked the Elf, “What’s his name, then?”

“Hallorn.”

I talked softly to Hallorn in _Khazudul_ , using his name as I stroked his neck and withers. He nosed me playfully, drawing my chuckle and a gentle push back. I took up the end of the gelding’s halter rope and wrapped it once around the arm of the startled Elf who held the tack.

“Hold this for a moment, if you please.”

Everyone paused as I hefted the bench. It was not heavy for a Dwarf, but it was unwieldy, and I had to work at keeping it steady so that it seemed an easy thing for me to do. I set it down by Hallorn, took the saddle from the Elf, and climbed on the bench to set the pad and saddle in place. I jumped down, tightened the girth, and carried the bench back to where it belonged. Finally, I took the bridle, talked to Hallorn until he was interested enough to let me slip the bit in his mouth, and looped the reins over his neck. Tauriel was smiling, so I smiled back. I’d gotten this far without making a fool out of myself, or annoying a very large animal.

Elves were mounting other horses around us, so Tauriel climbed in the saddle. I put a foot on the stall door beside Hallorn, used Hallorn’s saddle as a brace, and pushed and pulled myself up high enough that I could get my leg across the saddle. I was on the horse! I let the other riders go past me while I shortened the stirrups as far as they’d go; my legs were just long enough to reach them. One of the drover’s camps I’d worked used to put children on the top of their horses at an early age, and that’s what I felt like atop this tall Elvish horse. I took a deep breath and forced myself to relax so Hallorn didn’t pick up any tension from me. Horses were sensitive to such things, and I wanted this one to stay as calm as I could manage.

I was the last one to ride out of the barn and into a wide, flat field. Hallorn’s ears swiveled back, likely waiting for the right cues from me, but my legs were too short and the saddle too high for me to make the signals he expected. I didn’t kick, but I pressed extra hard with my legs to direct him as best I could. I managed to get the gelding to follow the others to loop around a few times, to get used to the odd high saddle and the lengthy reins. I even managed to get us properly positioned in a straight line with the other riders. Tauriel was on my left with one rider between us. Maybe I’d keep from making a fool out of myself after all –

Oh and oh, I was in for it. An Elf moving down the line handed out bows and quivers to the riders, and out in the field were targets. We were supposed to ride a complicated pattern, shoot at a target, and return. I wouldn’t manage with legs this short –

Of course I wouldn’t, if I stayed in the saddle. But a few years ago, Fili and I had worked as drovers on what had to have been the longest horse drive in Middle Earth, far to the north where the land was flat and dry, the air thin, the horses untrained to saddle, and the days long and boring. There were a dozen of us drovers, and we’d run chaotic races on those wild horses almost every day...

The first Elf had set off on down the field. They’d get to Tauriel before me, so I sat quietly on my horse as the riders went one at a time. I watched carefully to see the path they took, then looked to Tauriel as she gathered her reins.

“ _Comys thoyn, amrâlimê_!” I called to her with a grin. She didn’t know what that meant – the polite translation was to kick someone’s behind, but the true meaning was to do more than kick it – but she recognized the sentiment. She made her horse rear a bit in response, then set off. She rode with control and confidence, and put her arrow in the center of the target before racing back towards the line. I cheered her on, and she rode up with eyes as bright as mine.

“Good shooting!” I called, as the Elf between us rode off to take his turn.

“It was fun!” she replied, eyes dancing as she sidled her horse closer to me.

It was time to make my move. “Quick, what’re the Elvish words to tell a horse to go right, left, and straight?”

“ _Forvo_ , _harvo_ , and _t_ _îr_.”

I slipped off Hallorn’s back, loosened the girth, and pulled off the saddle. “Give me your arm.”

She leaned down, and I used her arm and her horse’s tack to get myself back onto Hallorn’s back. “What are you doing?” she hissed in alarm.

“My legs are too short to guide the horse from that big saddle. Wish me luck!”

The Elf between us returned, and it was my turn. I grabbed the quiver the Elf held up to me, looped it across my body, then grabbed the bow. I took up Hallorn’s reins and urged him forward. He was off at a smooth canter.

I had a few seconds to gauge Hallorn’s rhythm before I grabbed his mane to steady me. I let him bounce me high enough that I was kneeling on his back, then standing. How many hours had Fili and I raced horses like this with the other drovers over the cold northern steppes? I’d never tried to steer a mount through such a convoluted pattern, though, but I called out the commands to Hallorn and shifted my weight to help ground him. He responded instantly, and I shouted encouragement to him. He was sure-footed, well trained, and so broad across the back that he was easier to handle than a wild steppe pony, so I made it through the first turns without a hitch –

Oh, Valar, a ditch lay before me, but I’d jumped with Hallorn before I’d had time to think about it. We rushed towards the target now, so I got an arrow in hand and shouted to Hallorn to keep running straight ahead. He held steady, so I clenched his reins in my teeth to keep them from dragging. Swiftly, before I lost my balance, I nocked my arrow, drew the bow, and let fly. I didn’t see how well I’d shot, but I heard Tauriel’s elated shout, so I must have at least hit the target. Taking the reins back in my hands, I shouted for Hallorn to run. He caught my excitement, and stretched out his neck. With him flying beneath me, the air in my face, and Tauriel’s delight ringing in my ears, I felt more alive than I had in a long time. I shouted a Dwarvish war cry to the sky and laughed –

The line was almost upon me. I eased Hallorn back slowly so I didn’t lose my balance, and when he’d come to a stop, I eased down astride so I could rub his neck and praise him enthusiastically. I couldn’t have done such a wild thing with a reluctant mount, and I wanted him to get his due. He tossed his head as if he understood my Dwarvish words, and liked them.

“That was amazing!” Tauriel exclaimed, grabbing my arm to congratulate me.

 “It was.” That measured tone was Oteriel’s as he walked towards us. “Quite impressive. But not practical for riding on patrol.”

“No, it’s not,” I agreed, meeting his eyes without apology. “A lot of what you asked me to do this morning wasn’t practical, which doesn’t seem like the best way to assess a warrior’s skills. I’m shorter than you, not less competent. Now, I’ve got a bow and sword that fit me, and I’ll happily work with your saddle makers to come up with a riding rig that fits me. I’ve served twenty-seven contracts as a warrior, all of them to satisfaction, so I can learn everything you care to teach me. If, that is, we can get past the posturing about whether a Dwarf is fit to serve with the Elves of Imladris.”

Oteriel’s eyes bored into me, but I held them steadily. It helped that for once I was taller than an Elf, for I still sat atop Hallorn. After some seconds, he arched an eyebrow.

“Why should I make accommodation for you?”

“This is about more than accommodating a Dwarf, sir. It’s about adapting to preserve Rivendell. A Gundebad Orc is eight feet tall, twice your weight, and bred to ignore pain to a point not to be believed. They actually embed their metal armor in their flesh. Their Wargs make a Mirkwood beast look like a pup. You heard Tauriel – they’re nearly unstoppable, and you don’t know how to fight them. Tauriel and I do. What I’ve learned fighting against Men and Orcs who are far bigger than I am, and what Tauriel’s learned leading the forces of Mirkwood for hundreds of years, you need to fight Gundebad Orcs.”

“They do not prey here.”

“They will.” Tauriel sat atop her horse like the commander she was, her eyes hard and cold. “The Woodland Realm will not stop them, even if King Thranduil changes his current policy of isolation. Do not think you are safe. The Orcs will breed, and then they will come here. Imladris is a gem in so many ways. Is it not worth protecting?”

Oteriel’s jaw tightened, but then he nodded. “You make a good case, both for yourselves and for preparation. I will make a place for both of you on the guard.”

I bowed from atop Hallorn. “I thank you.”

“I thank you,” Tauriel made her own bow.

Oteriel nodded dismissal to us, and retreated to the stable, the Elves following on their horses. I slid off Hallorn to collect my discarded saddle, and Tauriel dismounted to walk beside me. I mimed a relieved sigh, drawing Tauriel’s smile, which was no less relieved, and a swift kiss.

“That was unbelievable,” she whispered.

I kissed her back quickly. “It felt amazing, even though I’ve never shot a bow atop a horse like that before. Did I hit the target?”

She rolled her eyes. “Just outside the inner ring. Didn’t you hear the gasp that went up?”

I shook my head. “All I heard was you yelling. I had a rasher of other things to think about at the time, not the least of which was trying to stay upright on my horse, who is a gem, without question.”

Tauriel reached over to give Hallorn an affectionate pat on the neck. “He is.”

“So how do you think we did?”

Tauriel glanced ahead to see how close we were to the trailing Elves. “He did place us on the guard. But I’m not sure how grudging that allowance is. We had a saying in the guard – ‘better to be right as an aside than straight ahead.’ We were quite straight ahead, but given the silliness of having me throw an axe and you pull a bow too long for you, it seemed the best path to take.”

Her eyes slid to mine. “What was it you called to me before I rode?”

I snickered quietly. “It was quite rude, but the Elves don’t need to know that. I told you to do more than just kick their rumps. Putting your arrow through the eye of their target did so with your usual elegance.”

Her lips trembled. “You are irrepressible.”

“I am. But they are insufferable. Now that we’ve both misbehaved, maybe we can get down to something useful.”

Still smiling, she shook her head. “I hope so.”

We came into the barn, and paused long enough for the Elves ahead of us to lead their mounts into their stalls. Tauriel untwined Hallorn’s reins from my arm. “I’ll hold Hallorn so you can put the saddle away.”

“I thank you,” I replied, and followed the trail of Elves into the tack room. There were three Elves there ahead of me, which left only two vacant saddle stands. I chose the one I could reach, arranged the tack, and turned to make my way back to Tauriel –

Six Elves blocked the door.

I’d let my guard down for a single second, and now I was in exactly the position I’d warned Tauriel about – confined space, too many opponents, and a single boot knife my only weapon. I scanned the tack room swiftly, seeking what I could use to defend myself, trying not to think about the last time I’d been cornered like this, decades ago in the back of a garrison room with five Dwarven mercenaries who hadn’t liked my looks. I’d been sure I’d come out of that garrison room gelded as well as buggered, but at the last second, as four of them had wrestled me belly down over a barrel while the fifth had unfastened his belt buckle, Fili had burst in swinging. He’d done enough damage that I’d clawed, bit, kneed, and slugged my way out of their hands. He’d pulled me to his side, and we’d fought our way out and away. We’d had uncounted bruises and gashes to nurse, but nothing like what I would have suffered if my brother hadn’t arrived. That dark room had invaded my dreams for years before finally fading.

Rivendell’s Elven tack room wasn’t dark and filthy, but it was no less threatening with six tall Elves facing me. Fili was past helping me, though Tauriel was just beyond. I didn’t want her to fight my battles for me if I could help it, so I wouldn’t call her unless I couldn’t get out any other way. I put my back to the wall.

“Rhiannel, keep an eye out,” the ringleader said softly, and one of the Elves positioned himself at the door

I drew out my boot knife. “I didn’t expect to show how good I am at hand to hand combat today, but if that’s what you want to see, have at.”

The ringleader drew closer, but stopped when he saw my knife. His eyebrows rose, and he looked more startled than aggressive. He held up his hands. “I am sure you are quite good, Master Dwarf. I mean no threat. I merely wanted to ask... in fact, all of us wanted to ask...”

“Ask what?” I growled.

“Would you teach us how to stand on a horse like that?”

Had I heard that right? No one had taught Fili, me, and the other drovers how to perch atop a horse too big for us to ride properly; we’d cobbled it together through trial and error, just young, bored lads having a rough lark in the middle of the steppe. “You can’t suss it out for yourself?”

I got a guilty smile that reassured me a bit. When I saw it mirrored on the other’s faces, I was reassured a bit more. “Master Oteriel is an excellent instructor, but he doesn’t... hold with... frivolity.”

“Frivolity?” I was incredulous.

“That is a poor term,” another Elf amended, seeing my face. “Lack of convention may be a better one.”

“Fun, Fallin,” a third said with exasperation. This was the first Rivendell warrior maid I’d seen, and she elbowed her way beside the ringleader. “Tell the Dwarf the truth. Master Oteriel doesn’t hold with fun. What you did looked fun as well as skillful, and we want to learn how to do it.”

I hoped my sigh of relief wasn’t as profound to them as it was to me. I put the knife back in my boot and straightened. “Well,” I began, and beckoned them closer, “if your Master Oteriel doesn’t like you to mess about like I did, there’s a couple of problems we have to solve.”

“What’s that?” the ringleader asked, bending closer.

I grinned. “We need to figure out how to slip horses out of the barn, and we need a place to ride out of Master Oteriel’s sight.”

The six exchanged glances, and one or two smiled in half guilty anticipation. Maybe Rivendell wasn’t so static as Tauriel and I had feared –

The Elf standing at the tack room door staggered back as Tauriel shouldered her way inside. She’d shoved the door in with a foot, and her knives were in her hands as she took in the six Elves arrayed around me.

“Kili?” Her voice was low and her eyes were dangerous.

“It’s all right, Tauriel. We have some new friends who’re looking for riding lessons.”

“Oh?” she questioned, still poised.

I looked to the maid. “I’m Kili, and she’s Tauriel.”

“Fallin. Drennal, Rhiannel...” The names of the six Elves tumbled over themselves, friendly enough that Tauriel sheathed her knives.

“We’re off for luncheon once we finish the horses,” Fallin said. “Would you join us, so we can talk?”

I looked to Tauriel, who gave me a miniscule nod. “We’d like to. But first, I have to ask a favor.”

“Yes?” Fallin asked curiously.

“Is there a box about the place? That damned bench is a weight, and I’d like something lighter if I’m to give Hallorn a proper brushing.”

I got chuckles in return, and someone ducked out to find something for me. I came out of the tack room silently blessing the Valar for saving me from a beating, or worse.

“I thought you told me to avoid getting backed into a dark corner,” Tauriel whispered. The light in her emerald eyes proved that she’d been scared for me. I’d been scared for me, too.

“I should have listened to myself better,” I admitted. “But the Valar save a fool now and again, and today it was my turn. It ended well, though.”

“They want riding lessons? To stand on the back of a horse?”

I nodded as I went to Hallorn’s stall. “They say that Master Oteriel is too traditional in his lessons.”

Unaccountably, Tauriel’s face broke into a smile. “So our lack of convention carried the day.”

“So it did.”

“Then we are on our way.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, and it's got mild erotica in it, so be warned -- or be happy, if you prefer.

_“Are you so exercised because he is a Dwarf, or because he compensated for his differences so well?”_

_“He does not know our traditions, Lord Elrond –”_

_“I thought he overcame our traditions quite convincingly, Oteriel. As did Tauriel.”_

_“That is exactly the problem.”_

_“That is exactly their advantage. As Mithrandir said to me, I will say to you. Kili and Tauriel are not imbued with our long tradition, yet they overcame every obstacle you presented to them, because their circumstances have required them to adapt where ours have not. They are right about the plague of Orcs, and though many of our people will choose to Sail rather than confront that plague, I would not yet abandon Middle Earth to the delight of our enemies and the dismay of our friends.”_

_“They will cause distraction and inattention among the ranks –”_

_“Further than that, I expect. Not all of our maids are court blossoms, and they will want to emulate Tauriel. My daughter has already professed a keen interest to meet her. The young males and Maid Giriel already plot to ride as Kili did this morning, so you will turn a benign eye on their efforts to do so. It is time to embrace needed change, Oteriel. Dispense with drills that they are not suited for, and add ones for which they are. Include Tauriel in your captains’ meetings, so that she learns our tactics and teaches us hers. Do not award either of them a position they do not earn, but do not deny them one that they do, either.”_

_“As you say, Lord Elrond.”_

_* * *_

 

When Kili and I came out of the tack room with the Elves, little was said, but anticipation simmered in the silence. A suitable box found its way into Hallorn’s stall so that Kili could settle his mount properly, and one or another Elf put a cleaning brush or hoof pick or polishing rag to hand as Kili and I worked, or answered our questions about what needed to be done. Around us, the Rivendell Elves tended to the same chores until each horse was clean and comfortable.

When my horse was groomed, I came out of the stall to see what would develop. Kili appeared out of his stall, carrying his box out of Hallorn’s way. The six Elves from the tack room appeared in ones and twos, and the Elf who had brought the box swept it away. When Fallin beckoned to us, Kili and I followed him out of the stable, retraced our steps through the practice areas, and came out into the courtyard.

By the time we were on the path past the fallow fields, almost a dozen Elves had joined us. Most were young, though likely some hundreds of years older than I, and the further away from the armory we went, the more smiles and chatter they revealed. The first attempts at conversation were almost shy, which surprised me. Perhaps the Rivendell Elves weren’t so much aloof as unaware of the world outside their borders, and now that two examples of it were in their midst, they were avidly curious, if not sure how to engage us. I took it as a good sign that they offered their names. After a slow start, they soon inundated both Kili and me with questions.

“How did you learn how to stand on a horse?”

“I was on a droving contract...”

“What is a droving contract?”

“You hire on to drive a herd of horses from one place to another...”

“Hire on?”

“You are from the Woodland Realm? And you were the captain of the guard? You fought spiders the size of houses?”

“Some of the oldest matriarchs were that big...”

“Have you fought Orcs?”

“Many times, both Mirkwood and Gundebad...”

“Is it true that the dragon Smaug is dead?”

“Yes, a man of Laketown shot him, but the city was badly burned...”

“You’re a smith? Can you make swords?”

“Aye, and a right fair of other things...”

“Do many maids serve in the guard of the Woodland Realm?”

“Fully half of the guard is maids. We cannot defend our lands without them...”

And so the questions went. Before long, we were ensconced in Rhiannel’s comfortable suite, Kili and I in chairs and many of the Elves on comfortable floor cushions. Plates of food and goblets of wine were passed around as we conversed. Kili and I sat across from each other, and though sometimes we were part of separate conversations, I was always aware of him. His eyes and voice were so full of life as he told his tales, sometimes self-deprecating, sometimes funny, but always marveling at the world around him; he’d missed the camaraderie of his uncle’s company badly. I was as charmed as I’d been when he’d told me his tales from King Thranduil’s cell, as I’d been this morning when he’d had guided Hallorn around the practice field. He’d been so fiercely alive racing towards me, his hair flying, his eyes sparkling, his war cry exultant...

I fell in love with him all over again. When our eyes met, he knew it, and touched his heart to tell me that he was just as enamored.

Hours passed, and it was growing dark before the conversation lulled. The throng of Elves had swelled to two dozen, and Kili was tiring. We’d eaten throughout the afternoon as plates of food had come and gone, but little of it had been meat, and he was hungry. He’d also worked very hard to quell his occasionally rough humor, and the strain was telling on him. We stood to take our leave with the agreement to meet again soon, and made our way out to walk home.

We were silent for several moments as we walked, enjoying the slight strains of music that drifted over the sounds of flowing water, and our own company. Kili’s fingers slipped into mine and tightened briefly.

“You were the most beautiful Elf maid there,” he murmured.

I laughed softly. “And you were the handsomest of Dwarves.”

“I was the only-est of Dwarves,” he pointed out with amusement.

“Were you? I didn’t notice. I was still entranced from this morning, when you flew atop a horse with your hair streaming behind you and your eyes so bright that I didn’t see anyone else.”

He kissed the back of my hand. “If that’s how my recklessness affects you, I’ll ride a horse like that up and down our street every day.”

“Not before you eat a proper supper. You need meat after so much behaving.”

Snickering, he slipped his arm around my waist. “My old mates would have a few rude things to say about me playing so nicely with a lot of Elves. Though Master Oteriel would likely claim just as rudely that I was not nice enough.”

“You were decorum itself,” I said for encouragement, but he exhaled noisily.

“Fili would tease me without mercy. I didn’t curse once. Don’t Elves ever curse?”

“Mostly at Orcs,” I admitted.

“Oh, surely you called King Thranduil a few choice names, didn’t you? At least to yourself?”

“Only to myself,” I replied. “I was the captain of the guards, and it would not have been seemly to speak ill of the king to the guardsmen.”

“Didn’t you have any friends to share a rude word with?”

“No.”

Kili stopped walking. He looked at me with regret, and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’ve had little enough at times, but until Erebor I always had Fili to share a joke with. Yours was a sad lot.”

I tugged him back to a walk. “No longer.”

He fell in beside me, and his arm went back around my waist. “No longer, indeed.”

We came to our house, let ourselves inside, and lit a pair of lanterns. It was good to be in our sanctuary again, where our public face could slip away as we removed our armor and hung it on the foyer racks. Kili stripped down to tunic and trews, and I to tunic and leggings.

“Are you cold?” Kili asked. “Go soak in the bath, and I’ll bring us a plate of something.”

“I’m warm enough, Kili. You’ve worked much harder than I today, so you go soak and I’ll bring the plate. Ham, cheese, and pickles? Or chicken pie?”

“Would you bring both?” Kili asked gratefully, lighting a candle. “I ate a lot of green Elvish leaves, but my belly’s still much too close to my spine, to my lights.”

He disappeared into the depths of our house with candle in hand. I padded through the rooms, lighting lamps in our bedroom and the garden before passing into the kitchen. I loaded a tray with plates piled high with Kili’s favorites, added slices of bread and the butter crock, and put a bowl of fruit next to the bread. We’d had wine all afternoon, so I added a mug of ale for Kili and a pitcher of water for me, and carried the lot into the bathing chamber.

Kili lay back against the far side of the tub, eyes closed, head back, and arms stretched out along the rim. His dark hair with its braids cascaded down one side of his broad chest, the _amrâlimê_ and _a’maelamin_ plaits tumbled together; the shorter locks at his temples shadowed his eyes. Even when relaxed, the muscles that corded his arms, shoulders, and chest spoke of his strength that so often cradled me in delight, and his bared neck was nothing but an invitation for caresses. Between the hot water and his own heat, his spicy scent rose to beckon me closer.

He opened his eyes. “Why do you smile, _amrâlimê_?”

I set the tray down on the near end of the tub and sat down beside it. “There is an emissary of the Valar in our tub.”

His smile was self-conscious, but gratified. “A very hungry one, I’m afraid.”

I shrugged out of my leggings and tunic and slipped into the bath. “We shall remedy that with all speed.”

I took up the plate of ham and popped a morsel into Kili’s mouth. He chewed with his eyes shut, savoring. “Mmm. Oh, that’s good. Your Elvish fare is tasty enough, I grant you. It just doesn’t stay with me. More, please.”

Kili wolfed down everything I offered for several moments, until the edge of his hunger had eased enough for us to wash. I indulged myself by soaping his mane, running my fingers through it until he hummed in enjoyment. When we had washed the efforts of the day away, we dried and retired to bed. Kili arranged a pile of pillows against the headboard and settled against them with the tray of food beside him, still munching. When I teased him about it, he popped a grape into my mouth, which made us both laugh.

Gradually, our mood shifted from satisfying one kind of hunger to another, and we set the tray aside. I straddled his hips to pop one last grape into his mouth, but he took my hand in his and drew me down so he could kiss my lips with no small passion. My reply was to glove him, then caress his chest, his nipples, his loins as I tightened around him in slow rhythm.

“Oh, Valar,” he moaned, and his breath caught. “I have no control when you do that, Tauriel. You’re going to –”

“I most certainly am,” I breathed, rocking my hips to match the flex of my muscles around him. I stroked him only a few times before his head fell back, his back arched, and his body shuddered as his climax swept over him. The picture he made lying against the rumpled pillows, still within me, his beautiful hair disarrayed around him and his eyes veiled behind a fringe of dark lashes, made me want him all over again.

“Is there nothing an Elf won’t ask of me today?” he purred. “I’ve been examined, tested, studied, and questioned since breakfast, now an amorous Elf maid has her way with me in my bed. On top. Without so much as a by your leave.” He opened his eyes and gave me an enticing smile. “I’m so weak from hunger that I won’t be able to fend her off if she decides to ravish me again.”

“No?” I reached for the plate of chicken pie and a fork to spear a mouthful. I poked it at Kili, who grabbed it in a snap. “Then the amorous maid must feed you – not enough that you’ll be able to fend her off, you understand, but enough that you’ll come when she calls.”

With an outraged chortle, Kili grabbed the plate of chicken pie with one hand and sent it clattering onto the tray. He tipped me off him, laid us on our sides with my back to his chest, and wound himself around me. As he nuzzled my neck, as his hands roved over my body, he slid inside me, despite how little time had passed since his climax.

“I’m right out of behaving, maid, and if you tried to make a slave of me, you’d have a revolt on your hands. I’d keep you out of the starlight for half the night to have you in every room of the house, and in the morning I’d delay breakfast to have you on the kitchen table. You wouldn’t be on top a single time.”

He set about teasing me as shamelessly as I had him. I let him, because it was delicious. He’d quickly learned that I found a delicate touch applied ruthlessly to be irresistible, and it didn’t take long for him to prove it again. With Kili’s warmth within and without me, his hands roving over my most sensitive places, and his teeth nipping my ear, I shut my eyes, opened my deepest, and let him carry me away. As soon as I crested, he followed me to release.

“Forget what I said about rebelling,” Kili whispered, gathering me into his arms to cradle me against his chest. He pressed a kiss on my ear. “It’s too late for me. I’m already lost. Every time you give yourself to me, you take me with you. I love you more every time.”

I rested in his arms, stroking his back with one hand, his shoulder with the other. “Did you feel me fall in love with you all over again today? Twice?”

“Twice?” He shut his eyes and leaned his head against mine.

“The first was when you raced Hallorn towards me with the light of the sun in your eyes. The second you saw for yourself at Rhiannel’s gathering, while you were telling your tales. It reminded me of when you were in King Thranduil’s cell, telling me about fire moons. You are _my_ fire moon, lighting up the sky.”

Kili swallowed, and his hands stroked me gently. “How can I find words for all you are to me? You’ve given me so much – yourself, a new life, a child...”

We kissed, softly at first, then with increasing heat. “Wait,” I breathed, putting a hand to Kili’s chest.

“Why?” Kili protested as he tried to resume his kiss.

“Because we have ten rooms in our house, plus the garden, and we’ve coupled in this one already. Which one shall we try next?”

Kili laughed as he eased my hands aside. “Leave the thorough carnal blessing of our house to a summer night, _amrâlimê_. It’s much warmer here tonight than in our storeroom, and you know how much you crave warmth.”

“I crave your warmth, _a’maelamin_ , so if you stay here, then I suppose I must, too.”

He rolled over, his hand already roving over my body. “Let me see how many ways I can find to repay your sacrifice.”

So he proceeded to do, and I never missed the storeroom for a moment.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter, this time. Hope you enjoy it.

_“You don’t learn, do you, scum? You’ve been told to go back to your maggoty forest! Since you won’t, we’ll show you the way to hell, instead! Throw him to the Wargs!”_

_Talons and fangs dragged Snaga off his beast. He was too busy fighting his attackers to see the huge Gundebad Orcs drive his beast over the edge of the Warg pit, though he heard the snap of jaws and crunch of bones as it went down under the bigger beasts. Hands wrestled him off the ground to dangle head first over the edge of the pit. A pair of beasts looked up from the torn remains of his Warg and circled below him, licking their chops and rearing up to reach him._

_“Maybe you’ll think better of gibbering about half Elf half Dwarf maggots in your next life, scum!”_

_“Hold! What did you say?”_

_The hands holding his legs stilled. “He’s the one that’s been rattling on about a short Elf or a tall Dwarf or such rot. Been up and down the line for days asking about it.”_

_“Pull him up.”_

_Snaga found himself yanked back from the pit and thrown at the feet of an Orc captain._

_“Get up.”_

_Snaga crawled to his feet. This Orc was two heads taller than he was, scarred by axe and talon and blade. The newest wounds, slashes raking across his face and chest, were no more than a month old, still oozing in places. The orange eyes, however, showed no sign of pain, only cruelty and scant little patience. The baleful glare told him that if he twitched or misspoke even a word, he’d go back over the Warg pit. It was hard not to cringe under that glare._

_“So you’ve been spinning yarns, have you, Mirkwood vermin? Spin it for me.”_

_“Wizard, she-Elf, halfling, and this creature traveled west past Mirkwood, sir. Creature smelled like Dwarf, yelled like Dwarf, but was armed like Elf. Too tall for Dwarf, too short for Elf. Killed Orcs like Dwarf. I was sent to learn if Gundebad knew these cross breeds.”_

_“Dark hair? Wearing cursed Elf leaf mail? Armed with a bow and short sword? And the she-Elf was in green? Red hair?”_

_Snaga nodded eagerly._

_The Orc’s brow furrowed as recognition lit his eyes. “You will tell me exactly where you saw them.”_

_Snaga did. “Think they headed for damned river valley of Elves, sir.”_

_The Gundebad Orc smiled. His eyes lit on Snaga, who quailed. He was going to end up in that Warg pit, after all, he was sure of it –_

_“Tell your Mirkwood scum that what you saw is not a half Elf half Dwarf. He is the heir of Durin. Keep watch on that valley, and if he shows his face, take him, then bring him here. Alive. Unmarked.”_

_Snaga gulped, but nodded frantically._

_The orange eyes flickered on an attendant. “Give him a Warg and send him on his way.”_

_The beast given to Snaga was mangy and skulking, and limped badly from a torn leg and flanks his fellow Wargs had given him. The harness was in no better condition. The beast snapped and snarled as Snaga got himself aboard amid much jibing from the Gundebad Orcs; the beast was barely fit to take Snaga’s weight. As he turned the shambling beast towards Mirkwood, he wished he’d never said anything to anyone about a short, dark-haired Elf, even if he was the hated heir of Durin. If he found the prince, he’d eat his liver, throw the rest to his dying Warg, and spit on the memory of Gundebad._

 

* * *

 

When I woke the next morning, an inkling that had darted in and out of my thoughts for weeks had settled to the forefront. Even last night’s indulgences with Tauriel couldn’t shake it, so I considered as I took a quick wash in the bath and pulled on clothes. Tauriel and I had a snug home now, and we were on our way to positions in the Rivendell guard. We had made a child. The thing I had yet to do was to resume my place at the forge. If Oteriel held off today from starting my training, I intended to return to the Rivendell forge and speak to the smiths about taking my place among them, as the guard allowed. Until I worked metal again, I lacked the means to complete my pledge to Tauriel –

“What is it, _a’maelamin_?”

I jerked back to the moment. I had made my way unaware to the kitchen, where Tauriel had just placed the kettle on the fire.

“What did you say?”

Tauriel frowned. She was still too protective of our pairing not to worry when something unexpected happened, even if that unexpected thing was just my preoccupation. “I asked if you wanted eggs with ham or sausages, and you didn’t hear me.”

I went to her and kissed her, caressing her belly as I did so. “I’m sorry, _amrâlimê_. I was thinking about visiting the smiths today, to see about a place. It’s time I was back at the forge.”

“Ah. Oteriel sent word that we’re to report to the arms hall in an hour. So, the ham, or the sausages?”

I sighed. I wouldn’t have the early start to see the smiths that I wanted. “Ham, then. It’s faster. Have you eaten?”

Tauriel shook her head.

“I’ll do the eggs, if you like. Can I make you some?”

“One. Perhaps you could add a little cheese?”

“Bilbo’s omelet, then?”

She smiled, thinking of our friend. “Yes. I’ll slice the ham.”

We worked in silence, Tauriel humming, I watching her as I stirred the eggs in the pan. Would a necklace be right? No, my _amrâlimê_ was a warrior, and wouldn’t wear something that intruded when she fought. That left out bracelets and armlets, too. A ring, perhaps? Well, that, of course, but I wanted something else –

The eggs had set, so I added the cheese bits, let them melt, then finished the dish with a sprinkle of Bilbo’s favorite herb, chives, before folding the omelet over and sliding it onto a plate. Tauriel had the ham ready and the tea was steaming, so I slid the plate over for her to take as much as she wanted of the eggs. We ate quietly, which let me get back to my consideration, but my sharp-eyed maid noticed.

“Something preoccupies you this morning, _a’maelamin_ ,”

“You’re sitting at the table, aren’t you? You’re beautiful, I’m lucky to have you, and it’ll be a long while before I stop marveling at it all.”

She colored slightly, and her smile was shy. It was funny how we could couple with such flagrant abandon, yet to speak of the truth behind the pleasure was harder, perhaps because it was so important to both of us. “At least reporting to Oteriel so early means that we’ll be done in time for supper, perhaps.”

“I’ll aim to see the smiths tomorrow, then. Or even late this afternoon if there’s time.”

You miss the forge that much?”

“I’m a Dwarf. I work metal,” I shrugged, then winked at her. “You might take a try, Tauriel. It’s very warm by the fire.”

She laughed at my joke, finished her eggs, and got up to rinse her plate in the washbasin. “I lack the heft, I expect. I’ll dress.”

“Armor today?”

“The message didn’t say. I’m wearing it because I can always take it off if it isn’t needed.”

I shoveled the rest of my ham down my throat and drained my tea. “Right behind you,” I called, and ate the rest of my omelet while I scrubbed my plate and the skillet. I followed Tauriel into our bedroom to dress in my working clothes. We closed our door behind us and headed down to the arms hall.

“You need greaves and a mail shirt,” Tauriel observed, as we walked.

“Another reason I need to get to the forge. Mail takes a long time to make. Perhaps the guard provides armor? Some of the garrisons I served did; some didn’t. Oh, I thought of something else I need to do.”

“What’s that, Kili?”

I grimaced. “I need to learn Elvish. I don’t expect that everyone in Rivendell will switch to the Common Tongue just because I showed up.”

Tauriel hummed. “In the Woodland Realm, most spoke Nandor day to day. The King and Legolas, of course, spoke Sindar during court, so most of us knew that, too. But the Rivendell Elves are the High Elves, so they speak Quenya. I speak it, but not easily.”

I grunted. “I guess I ought to learn the Quenya, then. We could speak it at home to practice.”

“Perhaps some of the Elves we met last night can help us find a tutor.”

“All right. Let’s ask at the first chance. The sooner I learn, the sooner Oteriel will like it.”

We were almost at the arms hall when one of the Elves we met yesterday hailed us. He fell into step with us, and after pleasantries we explained our need of a language teacher. He mulled that, and offered to pass the word around to find a likely candidate. We thanked him, and then into the arms hall we went.

The day went by in a blur, but I’d worked so many contracts that I was easy with the confusion that was always the prime characteristic of a new situation. Just as if Dwalin or Thorin stood behind me, I listened hard, said little, and went where I was directed. I saw a few familiar faces, and during breaks both Tauriel and I found many Elves ready to share a word, which was gratifying. Tauriel had a harder time of it than I, because she was used to leading, and here we were back in the novice classes to learn the basic drills and routines. I winked encouragement each time I caught her eye, and hoped that because I went along, she knew all was well.

The upshot was that Oteriel wanted us up to speed in short order, so several days went by before we had a break. From early morning to sundown, we learned our adopted city’s defenses. Tauriel also took part in the captains’ meetings, which made me proud. Someone had recognized her worth, which meant she’d command again one day.

I had extra duties, too, first with the armorers to find equipment to fit me, and then with the saddler to see what we could devise to help me sit a tall Elvish horse properly. I was sorry that Hallorn would not be my regular mount, but another, Trellennan, was just as smart. Thank the Valar that he was patient, because it took many trials to find something that would keep me secure, but also release me if the horse went down or I needed to vault off. The two saddlers weren’t enthused when we first began, but soon enough got interested in it as a design challenge, and so things went faster. In a few days, we had something workable for me to use in drills, with refinements to come as we sorted out how they worked. It was mostly a series of straps and such that magnified the effort of my short legs both to direct Trellennan and to keep me aboard.

As if drilling and captains’ meetings weren’t enough, I had to make good on the riding lessons. In addition to refining my new riding harness, I took lessons to learn the Elvish commands to my horse, memorize the correct positions and figures, and so on. It happened that several other students needed that same practice – all those who’d asked for me to teach them, strangely enough, plus Tauriel. So in the field the farthest from the arms halls, after the usual practice, if we lingered to try standing on a horse, no one complained. Being short was an advantage, because it was easier to balance a compact weight than a long attenuated one. It wasn’t as easy for Elves to learn as it had been for Fili and me, but with their inherent grace and fluid body control, their height didn’t slow them much. With all the flying through trees that Tauriel had done in Mirkwood, this came easily to her, and it was my joy to hear her exultant laugh the first time she managed the trick. We ventured a few slow races, mostly to get the horses used to riding side by side with a lot of yelling Elves atop them. That was another wonder. I had a dozen refined and elegant Elves yelling and laughing almost as loudly as Dwarves. They still didn’t curse, but getting a bit of noise from them was good.

Tauriel and I found a tutor in the warrior maid, Giriel. I think she wanted to know Tauriel better, who she was a bit in awe of. I sympathized. To watch Tauriel on the drilling courts reminded me of how fierce a fighter she’d been in Mirkwood, not to mention in the battle at Erebor. So graceful, yet so lethal. At any rate, Giriel came to dinner several nights to begin our lessons. It was a fair trade, food for tutoring, and it also let her see how much I had to eat. Elves were notorious gossips, so word went around quickly, and when we visited our growing group of friends, there was usually something with meat in it for me. I got no takers on the ale, though, so I stuck to the usual red wine when visiting.

Consequently, many days went by without me having a moment to go to the smiths. Finally, Oteriel deemed us suitably trained for simple things such as outlook, and we had a set schedule of training and duty to stand. On my first off day, after a leisurely morning of reacquainting myself with Tauriel’s delights, I set off for the smiths. I didn’t expect to need an introduction from Lindir to start me off, because at this point nearly everyone Tauriel and I met knew who we were. It was funny, to be the first novelty in millennia in such an ancient city. I’d gotten so good at behaving that my brother would not have known me.

_Rest well, Fili, wherever you are. I still miss you almost more than I can bear._

The famed forges of Rivendell are impressive. Imagine a hall as beautiful as everything in Rivendell was, but as practical a forge as might exist. The central hearth was surrounded by six separate work areas, some for heavy smithing, some for pouring metal, some for finer work. Around those were several places to work cold metal, do fine filigree and jewelry work, and so on. I was fortunate to arrive at a critical juncture, where a lot of molten metal was being poured, and something went awry. I heard yelling, something almost unheard of in the city, and rushed forward in time to see a load of iron tottering in its trolley. I caught one smith before he fell against the blazing furnace, and yanked the tottering pile back into balance. The upshot was that I had a few grateful faces to greet me, and it wasn’t long before they agreed to take me on. As my guard duties allowed, I spent several days cleaning up basic repairs and such, until they understood I was competent for finer work. The day I smithed two sword hooks to replace the soup ladle Tauriel and I had been using was a proud day.

Before long, I had done some finework needed for jewelry pieces, and so it became common to see me at that work as well as iron. That’s when I resumed my consideration of what to make for Tauriel’s wedding present.

The custom of Dwarves is that a lad must make something with his own hands to present to the maid when he asks for her consideration. I wanted to make a jewelry casket, as well as the pieces that the casket would hold. The casket I had thought out early on – it would be a small, square box with a hinged lid, lined in green silk velvet to match Tauriel’s eyes. The outside would be adorned with the _amrâlimê_ braid pattern on two facing sides, and the _a’maelamin_ braid pattern on the other two. I’d figure the top with the Dwarvish marriage knot, and the clasp would be the Elvish marriage knot, assuming I could suss that out. As the second prince of Durin’s line, I had the right to make the box in fine silver; Fili, as the crown prince, would have used gold. As I had always been more enamored of silver’s luster, doing without gold was no disappointment. I had always secretly hoped that my preference for silver meant I wouldn’t suffer from the gold sickness that had plagued my uncle’s father and grandfather, but I was just as glad not to put it to the test. The massive amounts of gold in Erebor would have been hard to ignore.

The problem, though, was what to put in Tauriel’s jewelry casket?

There was nothing for it but to ask her. I had my own preference, but I wanted her to have her say in case my idea didn’t suit her.

I bided my time, working on the box as I could around everything else that was asked of me. I did manage to get some of the Elves to draw braid designs for me with the excuse that I’d been asked to make some pieces for hair ornaments, and wanted to get the patterns right. I collected quite a collection of sketches before I casually asked about the marriage knot. As I had asked about so many, no one blinked at my request. I got descriptions from three Elves and showed them sketches to make sure I had drawn it correctly. I made a delicate hinged clasp of it, and went around to the drapers one afternoon to barter a trinket or two for the velvet I wanted. When the box was done, I stuck it in my tunic and headed home for supper.

Tauriel wasn’t in yet when I got there. There had been another captain’s meeting for her to attend, and it would likely be late before she returned. I lit the lamps outside the front door to welcome her home, then those inside, and went to scrub off the day’s toil. I took pains to redo my hair well, and put on clean shirt, trews, and house boots. Then I considered what to make for supper.

I got a bowl of Tauriel’s favorite salad ready, and a dish of the first spring berries from Rivendell’s conservatory. I had my fish ready for the skillet, potatoes ready to mash, and a pan of Bilbo’s biscuits ready for the oven when I heard Tauriel come in. She looked tired, but her eyes lit when I came to greet her.

“Welcome home, _amrâlimê_. I’ve got supper going, but it can hold if you’d like to bathe first.”

“It would be good to be clean,” she sighed as she sat on the bench to take off her boots. “I’ll be quick.”

“Sing out when you’re drying, and I’ll put Bilbo’s biscuits in the oven.”

“Biscuits? You are inspired today, Kili. What other wonders are you making?”

I followed her into our bedroom to watch her undress. “Salad, of course. Fish and potatoes to go with. A dish of the season’s first berries. Oh, and dessert, too. But that’s a surprise.”

Tauriel hummed in anticipation. “A feast, then. I won’t take long.”

I kissed her as she sat to pull off her leggings, then headed back to the kitchen. I was still seasoning the fish when she called to me, so in went the biscuits, and on went the fish, and in between turns of the fish I slathered the potatoes with cream and butter and herbs. Bilbo had turned me into an experimenter with herbs, so today’s blend was spicy and green, like the waxing spring. I got the fish on a platter and the biscuits out of the pan just as Tauriel came in. She looked much more refreshed in a soft patterned gown the deep green-blue of seawater.

We sat without ceremony and shared out the food. Tauriel still ate far less than I did, but she had become more eclectic in her tastes, and usually had a little of everything we put on the table. We chatted over the day’s efforts, reminisced about when Bilbo had first made these biscuits for us, and laughed at our grammar mistakes when speaking Quenya. Maybe it was my anticipation, but I savored anew my fortune to be with Tauriel, to be so loved, and to love so much.

Fili would have called me sappy. I would have let him.

“Are you ready for dessert now?” I asked.

Tauriel helped me carry the dishes to the washtub. “I am.” She looked around the kitchen. “Where is it? I’ll put it on the table.”

“Let’s do the wash up first. Then we can have dessert in the garden.”

She gave me a look. I’d shown the edge of my anticipation, and she knew something was afoot. But we cleaned up the remnants and wiped the dishes without her asking more. Then I offered her my hand, and we retired to the garden at the heart of our house. The plants and trees were in full vigor now, the protective walls of our house allowing warmth and light to push our season a week or so ahead of the rest of Rivendell. The fountain chimed softly. Even at dusk under lamplight, the flowers still glowed, especially the white moonflowers that vined up the columns.

We sat on the comfortable settee that Tauriel had piled with plush cushions and enjoyed a few moments of the full silence. I picked up Tauriel’s hand to kiss the back of it, than held it in my lap.

“This is a lovely dessert,” Tauriel murmured, regarding the garden.

“It is,” I agreed. “And it’s fine enough by itself. But I did make a little something more.”

I leaned forward for the bottle of wine I’d put on the table earlier, and poured out two glasses. I handed one to Tauriel, and took up the other one myself. We shared a sip, then I picked up the green silk velvet bag sitting beside the bottle and handed it to her.

“This is for you.”

She put down her glass to take the bag. She opened the drawstring carefully to ease out my box. She identified the woven patterns at once, and met my eyes with a surprised look.

“It’s a marriage box.”

I nodded. “It’s empty right now. I want to ask you what to put in it. But before I do that, I’d better ask the important thing.”

I knelt before her and took her hands. “I’m a guardsman now, and a smith, and we have a home to shelter us and our coming child, so I can provide for you in a fit fashion. I also love you more than I can tell you, and will cherish you now and for all my life, as you deserve. So would you please consider marrying me? It would be my greatest honor if you would.”

Tauriel’s face waxed with love as well as humor. “I had wondered why you hadn’t asked. You’ve been so preoccupied that I worried whether it had to do with me. But it had to do with making your box, yes?”

I nodded. “It’s a Dwarvish custom. You know how few maids we have, so for a lad to marry, he has to show his fitness to provide and care for a maid by giving her a gift he’s made with his hands. I know you don’t need me to provide for you, but I still liked the custom of the gift. I wanted to give you something that would remind you of how unique we are, and how much I love you. So...?”

“Yes, of course,” she laughed, pulling me to my feet and hugging me hard. “Very much yes!”

After a long, indulgent kiss, I sat beside Tauriel and nodded at the box. “Open it. I want you to see the inside.”

She did, rubbing her fingers over the soft velvet. “It’s beautiful. You said you wanted to ask me what to put in it.”

I nodded. “The Dwarvish custom of marriage jewelry is usually a ring as well as other things. I need to measure your finger for the ring, but I didn’t think you’d want a necklace or bracelets or such to go with it because you’re a warrior. I have an idea of something else, but it’s not often done, and I don’t know if Elves hold with such decoration.”

“What is that?”

“I thought... maybe small rings for our ears? It does mean piercing our ears, but if they’re small they wouldn’t catch on things or offer an opportunity for an enemy, and we’d never lose them since they couldn’t fall out.”

Tauriel considered, then touched the point of her ear. “Here?”

“Anywhere you like, but the usual place is here,” I replied, moving her fingers down to the lobe just above where it met her head. “It might be too barbaric for an Elf, and the piercing does hurt when it’s done. I won’t mind if you choose something else. I can make whatever you’d like. It would be fine silver, as the box is. As second prince of Durin, I’m granted that.”

“In which ear?”

“Oh, they come in pairs, usually. Though a lot of the lads do just one for decoration. Bifur has a huge one in his left ear.”

Tauriel thought about that, a smile slowly growing on her lips. “I think I like the idea of rings in my ears. It would be very distinctive. And you would look wonderful with a pair of rings. The Elf maids already talk about your exotic looks, so this would only enhance them.”

I snickered. “I don’t care what any Elf maid thinks about my looks other than the one I’m looking at.”

“Then small rings it shall be. Is there a ceremony in addition to the jewelry?”

I sat back and exhaled noisily. “If we were in Erebor, there would be a hugely annoying ceremony. Hours of standing around listening to dull speeches, all in very heavy clothes in very hot rooms while folk stare at you to see if you twitch. Pounds of ugly jewelry, all of it meaning something to somebody that nobody remembers. _Maamr_ and her maids would braid your hair into such intricate plaits you might never get them out, and corset you in so many chemises and tunics and gowns and coats and overdresses that it would take us days to get you out of them. The lads would pad me out in just as many layers with armor over it all, and a helmet with a crown on top that would make me unrecognizable – you might be marrying the local grocer, for all you’d be able to tell. Then they’d haul us off to the royal bedchamber, where we’d have to find each other under all the layers. Then someone would listen at the door all night to make sure I did a proper job by you, and to make sure there’d be an heir. There is usually quite a wild drunken party along the way, but except for that, it’s appalling. I didn’t want any part of it, much less of trying to be a proper king when I have no aptitude for it.”

“It sounds awful,” Tauriel shuddered sympathetically.

I glanced at her. “What about Elves? Do you have a ceremony?”

She nodded. “As a lowly Nandor, it would have been far simpler than the one that Legolas may one day have to endure. But it is very ceremonial and very long, as yours is. There is no wild party, but fewer layers of clothing, and we are spared the listener at the door of the marriage chamber. I wonder if Legolas, as the heir, would have one, though?”

I snickered. “I hope not. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, even a Sindar prince.”

Tauriel’s lips trembled, perhaps imagining that. “What to the listeners hope to hear, I wonder? Is there a secret Dwarvish word that you must speak at a particular moment, or to they just wait for the maid to cry out in ecstasy?”

I guffawed. “That’s a good question. That was the one thing Fili never told me.”

“He was the one who told you about the marriage ceremony?”

“So he did,” I nodded. “As the heir, he had to know all the horrific details in case he ever got to be king. He wasn’t any fonder of the idea than I was, but he was a dutiful sister’s son, and did his best at everything to make Uncle Thorin proud while we were in the Blue Mountains. On contracts, though, he cut up as much as the rest of us. He told me the whole thing, mostly to get my sympathy, but partly to educate me. I didn’t have a lot of maids sidling up to me where I could learn how to couple on my own because I’m an ugly Dwarf – ”

“You are _not_ ugly, Kili,” Tauriel said with exasperation.

“Not to you, gladly, but I was to the Dwarf maids. I soon found out that the only reason a maid ever got near me was because she really wanted to get near Fili who was the heir, and she knew how close he and I were. So he told me all the particulars, because he said I’d need it when I found the right maid.”

“He was the best of brothers, then.”

“And the worst. And I loved both of them.” I held up my glass to Fili’s memory and drank it down. “So what do we do about a ceremony for ourselves? I don’t want any heavy clothes, ugly jewelry, long speeches, or listeners at the door.”

“Nor do I. Perhaps all we need is someone to witness as we say that we are husband and wife.”

“I wish Gandalf were still here. He’d do it.”

“I would like that, too. Is there some way to send him a message? Or is it presumptuous of us to bother a wizard over such a thing?”

“I think he’d be pleased that we asked,” I mused. “He’s taken a liking to us, for whatever reason. But I don’t know how to send him a message.”

“Perhaps Lord Elrond would know?” Tauriel suggested.

“Is it presumptuous to ask the Lord of Rivendell to be a messenger?” I snickered.

“I suppose it is.” Tauriel sighed and sipped her wine. “Perhaps we could ask him if he knows how _we_ could send a message.”

“That would be better,” I conceded. “So shall we ask Lindir to let us see Lord Elrond?”

“We can ask tomorrow morning before duty,” Tauriel suggested. “But wait... does the maid give a gift to the lad?”

My laugh was wry. “She _is_ the gift, as far as some of the maids are concerned. A precious commodity bestowed only where it is earned, and only as long as she deems it fit.”

Tauriel grimaced. “You make it sound like a transaction.”

“Some of the maids do, too, especially the ones in a position to make the usual political alliances, and so forth. But there are a fair number of love matches, too, to be fair. I didn’t expect to find one of those. If I’d ever become the second prince of Erebor, I would have likely had to make one of those political alliances, which would have been like being buried alive. If I hadn’t had the urges any Dwarf lad does, I would have been glad the maids thought I was ugly.”

“Ah. So how long would it take for you to make our rings?”

“The patterns are done. I’ve made models of the ear rings in wax already, and my finger ring. I just need to do your finger ring to the right size.”

“Are they plain, or patterned?”

“One ear ring has the _amrâlimê_ braid, and the other has the _a’maelamin_ braid. The finger rings are double twists, for the two of us become one, with our names in runes on the inside. Wait, I’ll show you.” I got up and retrieved the sheets showing my drawings from my clothes, and brought them back to show Tauriel. “This is the finger ring, and these are the ear rings.”

“They are very beautiful,” Tauriel complimented me. “If the designs on the box are any indication, they will be wonderful.”

My grin was silly, but to be this much in love with an Elf.... eh, what was there to say? “It shouldn’t take but a few days to make the lot.”

Maybe Tauriel thought her expression was just as silly as mine, but I thought it held anticipation and excitement. “Don’t delay, then, _a’maelamin_. We want to be ready if and when we can coax a wizard to favor us.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Just a quick, fun chapter. No erotica, but there is a bit of extremely rude Orcish profanity. Elvish comebacks just don't have the same flair, do they?
> 
> Translation Notes:
> 
> Kurvan Gajumat Kon! = Fuck the ugly dogs! (Orcish)  
> Lle holma ve' orqu! = You smell like an orc! (Elvish)

_The Warg, to Snaga’s disgust, lasted barely two days before collapsing on the plain. As the beast stumbled and fell for the last time, Snaga discovered that in addition to a slashed leg and torn flanks, it had a broken jaw and was missing an eye. Damned Gundebad Orcs wanted him to run back to the woods and have his folk do Gundebad’s bidding, but hadn’t even given him the means to get there! He cursed the beast wheezing before him, and put his scimitar through its brain, not out of mercy, but to take his fury out on something. He hacked at it until he’d taken the edge off his rage, then turned his back, and loped away. It would be dawn soon, and he needed to be far away from the dead beast before the cursed Elves found it._

_* * *_

 

Kili and I didn’t find Lindir the next morning, so we headed down to the arms hall at a leisurely pace, for we were early and the soft rain that had fallen overnight had made the paths slippery. We shared the same duty today, so would be able to share supper, bath, and bed together come evening.

“We’re to do something new today, _amrâlimê_ ,” I told Kili as we walked. “Something beyond the same basic drills, I’m very happy to say. Cavalry games.”

“What, shooting atop horses and such?” Kili rolled his eyes in mock disgust to hide his anticipation. “I’ve already done that drill, haven’t I?”

“This isn’t a drill where everyone does something in order,” I explained. “We’ll have two teams for a mock battle.”

Kili brightened. “Yah! It’s been an age and then some since I’ve done that. A year ago, at least, back in the Blue Mountains. Dwalin was in charge of them. Full on, twenty a side. You can imagine the mayhem. Fifteen cracked heads, three broken arms, a broken leg, six lame ponies, and more stitches than a bed quilt. I hadn’t had so much fun in years.”

I broke into laughter. “Truly, a Dwarf’s sense of fun is alarming, at best.”

“We’re not finicky about a little blood,” he protested, his pace quickening as we drew near the hall. “You Elves better find some padding.”

I thought that was wise and prudent advice, but kept silent as we entered the hall. Kili’s enthusiasm and potent skill as a warrior would likely cause several Elves more bumps and bruises than they’d felt in years. Our new comrades still tended to underestimate him because of his height. Oteriel was waiting, telling the guardsmen as we arrived to strip our armor, don padded leather tunics and helmets, and assemble just outside the stable in the fenced riding ring. We were not to saddle or bridle our mounts. We separated to prepare as directed.

As we came into the ring with our comrades, everyone called back and forth, exchanging greetings, expressing curiosity about today’s work, tossing a joke back and forth. Kili was already astride, despite the lack of reins, guiding Trellennan here and there with his knees and voice commands. He rode easily now; the weeks of practice had made him a good rider, even without a saddle or his special rigging. My riding had improved as well, and so I looked forward to today’s game.

Soon enough Oteriel called us to order. When we all dismounted to gather near, one of Oteriel’s assistants came out with an armload of leather strapping in his arms.

“Each of you take a harness,” Oteriel said as his aide passed among us. “Watch Lessannin to see how to put it on your horse.”

Lessannin demonstrated. It was nothing but a combination of unadorned leather strips to secure a handhold just above the horse’s withers. Dangling from the handhold was a long braided strap. There was no saddle pad, nor reins, nor stirrups. Kili looked under Trellennan’s neck at me, his eyebrows arched. “We’re going to ride like Orcs?”

“So it seems,” I murmured back, buckling the straps across Sirran’s chest. “You’ll have an advantage, as strong as you are.”

“You’ll have better leverage,” he assured me gallantly.

“We’ll see,” I whispered. “There, Oteriel’s about to speak.”

“This is an Orc fight,” Oteriel confirmed. “We’ll see how well you’ve learned what you’ve been taught the past weeks by both your instructors,” he nodded to Kili, tacit acknowledgement of what we’d been practicing in the far field atop our horses. A soft chuckle went up, and Kili grinned unabashedly as he stood stroking Trellennan’s nose. “Two teams, wooden wands only, no head on thrusts. The goal is to unhorse the other team, not to kill them. The game is over when all riders on one team are unhorsed.”

Murmurs of anticipation went around, not the least of which was Kili’s.

“Captains for the game are Fallin and Giriel. Giriel, you have first choice.”

“Gildien,” she called at once.

“Rhiannel,” Fallin returned.

“Kili.”

“Tauriel.”

And so it went. Kili gave me a challenging look before tapping Trellennan’s front leg. He’d trained his horse to raise his leg to give him a step to mount without a box. As he pulled himself astride, I leaned near.

“ _Comys thoyn_ , _a’maelamin_.”

He threw back his head and laughed, but still put his hand on his heart and bowed. “Only yours, _amrâlimê_ , and gently. Good fight.”

“And you.”

Oteriel handed out our wooden wands as we rode out of the ring and into the field, separating into our teams. Kili soon had his shouting in Orcish:

_“Kurvan gajumat kon!”_

Knowing Kili, that was something appallingly rude, but as almost everything in Orcish was rude, that was to be expected. Not to be outdone, my team took up Fallin’s chant.

“ _Lle holma ve' orqu!”_

Quenya didn’t have the same ring as Kili’s Orcish, but that was to be expected, too. I smothered a smile, and made sure I had a firm grip on handhold and wand as Oteriel raised his hand.

“Go!”

We scrambled off. Giriel aimed herself right at me, yelling, so I rode hard to meet her. Ducking her first swipe, I winged a hard backhand behind her, connecting hard enough that the breath gusted out of her. I wheeled Sirran and galloped hard to catch her, and needed only to prod her with my wand to send her off her horse. Oh, Valar, another Elf was riding hard after me! Of her own accord, Sirran sidestepped neatly, collecting herself so well that I ended up on the offside of the pursuing Elf. I switched the wand to my off hand to batter his ribs, then brought up a leg to kick him over the side of his horse. Two down! Scanning the field, I spotted Kili kick his opponent hard in the chest with both feet, one hand firmly on the handhold and the other holding his wand. My teammate had no chance against the full force of Kili’s blow, and went tumbling off. We were down to five, two of my team and three of Giriel’s. Yelling to Fallin, my remaining teammate, we bracketed one of our opponents and knocked him off together. That evened the odds to two a side.

“I’ll take Kili!” Fallin shouted. “You take Ventil!”

We rode at our respective targets. Ventil was a good rider, and a better swordsman, with a reach longer than mine. But Sirran was more agile than Ventil’s horse, and I made full use of that to dart this way and that until I was behind him. Calling to Sirran, we sprinted after him. I connected with a glancing blow off his shoulder, just enough that when he swerved to elude me, he lost his balance. Sirran followed closely enough that I just reached Ventil with my wand, and nudged him the last small bit to send him sliding off. I wheeled Sirran around, just in time to see Fallin tumble to the ground. Kili tore off his helmet, wheeled Trellennan, and raced for me, shouting to Trellennan like an Orc berserker.

Sirran sprang forward, and I raised my wand with a yell as I raced towards Kili. At the last moment, just as I whipped my wand forward to catch his ribs, he dropped his wand and let mine smack into him, then seized the end of it in an iron grip. I had to either let go of the wand or my handgrip, so I released the wand, and drove Sirran away. Kili thundered after me, Trellennan swerving after Sirran so well that I couldn’t get behind him. I ducked a look behind to see which side he was on, only to see him right behind my horse, crouched atop Trellennan. Kili dropped my wand, flung himself off his mount, and landed squarely on Sirran behind me, seizing me around the waist with both arms. He grabbed for the handhold to pry my hand free. His Dwarvish strength made that an easy thing, and there we were, both of us on the horse, but Kili was the one in command.

“Push me off, then,” I told him, panting.

“No.” Kili slowed Sirran, and turned him to canter back towards Trellennan. “You carry our child, and I won’t jeopardize that for a game. Besides, it was more fun to win this way. You’re my spoils of war.”

“So I must do the cooking tonight?” I exhaled, pulling off my helmet.

Kili’s chuckle was wicked, but he squeezed my waist gently. “Cleanup, too. And perhaps a few other things.”

Kili leaned over to snare the strap on Trellennan’s harness. He guided us back to our teammates, where we were met with cheers from Giriel’s team, and good-natured concession applause from Fallin’s. Even Oteriel had a reluctant smile just at the edge of his lips. So, to my surprise, did Lord Elrond, who stood next to his Master at Arms.

“Well done to your team, Giriel,” Lord Elrond bowed to our captain, smiling. “Well done, Kili and Tauriel, for being the last combatants. And well done, Kili, for preserving victory for your comrades as well as domestic harmony for yourself.”

Laughter followed Lord Elrond’s wry observation, mine included. Grinning, Kili released his grip on the harness so that I could slide off Sirran, then he slid off after me.

“Is there a prize?” Giriel asked, and her team added their agreement. Kili remained silent, content because he already had his reward.

“I think a prize is in order for such an impressive display,” Lord Elrond agreed, smiling broadly at the Elf maid. “Perhaps the wining team should be dismissed early, and the losing team should care for the horses.”

Oteriel held up his hands, conceding to the Lord of Rivendell, and the teams dispersed with a cheer – except for Kili and me. We traded glances, and called out to the Elf Lord before he turned away.

“Lord Elrond? Sir?”

He turned back to us, deep eyes inquiring. “Yes?”

“We’d like to ask you, sir... would you know how we can send a message to Gandalf the Grey?” I asked.

“Your need must be urgent, if you seek a wizard,” the Elf Lord observed mildly.

“It’s not urgent... exactly, but it’s important,” Kili ventured. “To us.”

“And what, if I may ask, is not urgent but important?”

When Kili and I exchanged glances, he exhaled, and waved a hand at me. “You’d better explain, Tauriel. You’re more diplomatic.”

Lord Elrond laughed softly. “Honestly said, Kili. So, diplomatic Tauriel, tell me why you seek a wizard.”

“Kili has asked me to marry him, and I have agreed. Neither of us wants a ceremony that is as daunting as what we would face among our peoples. A simple witnessing or blessing as we named ourselves husband and wife would be enough. We know that a wizard is taken in many directions, but... if Mithrandir happened to pass Rivendell, perhaps he would stand for us.”

“Hence your desire to send a message to Mithrandir,” Lord Elrond nodded. He stood silently, his hands clasped behind him as he considered us. A hint of smile crossed his face as subtly as a shadow. “Consider your message sent. And if Mithrandir’s travels do not bring him to Rivendell, I offer myself as a substitute. We have not had a wedding in Rivendell for an age, and I would like to host one again.”

Kili’s eyes widened, and he glanced at me in panic. “That’s – that’s... oh, with all respect, sir, we thank you, but all we want is the simple witnessing that Tauriel talked about. It can’t be one of those agonizing, long-winded, overdressed, solemn rites with lots of invocations and proclamations...”

“That does sound grim,” Lord Elrond agreed. “Tell me, is that what the ceremonies of the House of Durin are like, Prince Kili, sister’s second son to Thorin Oakenshield, and heir to the throne of Erebor?”

Kili stilled at the reminder of his brother and uncle. It was a moment before he found his voice. “Aye, they are, and fit for a king as I am not. I wasn’t before Erebor, and I’m doubly not after. Dain is. I’m a smith, Tauriel’s chosen, a Rivendell guardsman, and soon to be a father. That’s all I want to be.”

Kili’s voice had been steady and straightforward, but his eyes were so dark that I put my hand on his shoulder in commiseration. To my surprise, Lord Elrond put one hand on Kili’s other shoulder, and the other on mine. “You have both wisdom and courage to choose what is best for your people, Kili. And you have my condolences for your losses – both of you do. If either of you seek solace for them, I am here, as you require.

“As for your ceremony, you shall have the simple witnessing you seek, whether it is a wizard or an Elf who attends you. There will be no mention of the House of Durin. Nor of who encouraged King Thranduil’s conscience to hold the day at Erebor.”

My jaw dropped, and Kili’s upturned eyes were startled as he looked at me. At both reactions, Lord Elrond smiled again, this time with benign amusement. “You are both very welcome here. Choose a day, and you will have your blessing.”

He put his hand to his heart to bow to us, then disappeared into the stable.

Kili shook his head, and murmured a soft, thoughtful word under his breath. “It’s a disconcerting thing to have the Lord of Rivendell look at you. He knows everything before you say it.”

“He knows everything you do not say, as well.” I squeezed Kili’s shoulder. “Come on. You might have won dismissal from the afternoon’s duty, but I haven’t, and I have to settle Sirran and Trellennan first.”

Kili’s voice was still sober. “I’ll help you, Tauriel.”

“No, you will not,” I said, putting my arms akimbo. “You will take yourself off to the forge, and you will work on our wedding rings. We have a date to choose, and we do not want to keep either a wizard or the lord of the High Elves waiting.”

Kili’s smile returned in full force, and his eyes lit with their usual warmth as he handed me Trellennan’s lead rope. “Or me, either.”

He reached up to kiss me quickly, than left the horses to me.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, all; this chapter isn't just pure, unadulterated, explicit sex, but it's got that in it, so skip it if you prefer, or read on with rampant abandon.

Full dark had descended before Kili made it home that night. He’d sent a message that he’d be late, so I had eaten several hours ago, and was resting in the garden under the stars when our front door finally opened. I rose to greet him with a smile that quickly turned to laughter when I took in his disheveled appearance and his contrite smile.

“I’m sorry to be so late, Tauriel. But the Orc Spawn wanted to celebrate our win today –”

“The Orc Spawn?” I repeated skeptically.

“Our riding team of this morning. We dubbed ourselves the Orc Spawn. To foster camaraderie.”

“I’m sure,” I folded my arms across my chest. “And just what was it that the Orc Spawn chanted this morning?”

Kili’s grin was irrepressible. “Oh, that. It had something to do with sexual practices involving ugly canines, I think.”

“You think? You know, because you came up with it. I heard you. Did you tell the High Elves what they were chanting?”

To my chagrin, Kili smothered a gleeful snort. I imagined the trouble he and Fili must have caused when they were younger, constantly getting into mischief together, and suspected that their mother’s hair had waxed grey early. “Not in so many words... exactly. Some of them sussed it out, though, and told the rest. I underestimated them, because once they passed it around, they chanted all the louder. There’s hope for them yet.”

I couldn’t smother my chuckle as I bent to kiss him. “You are impossible. Ugh, you are also rank, and covered in sand. What sort of celebration was this?”

“The sweat’s from the forge, honestly earned. So is the sand. I used it to cast our rings. The celebration was during luncheon, and there was wine involved, but I didn’t have much because I was going to the forge afterwards to work on our rings – just three or four goblets. We scared up some meat pies and greens to go with, and tossed a lot of filthy words out of range of any elders.”

His grin was unrepentant as well as content, and I was glad that he was finding companions to replace his lost brother. “More camaraderie, then.”

He nodded. “That didn’t take long – a couple of hours, maybe. Since then, I’ve been at the forge. I’ve got everything cast. After everything’s cool, I’ll polish them, and cut our names inside the finger rings. That won’t take but another few hours. Casting took time, though, because I wanted the lot to be perfect, so I’m home without washing first.”

“The bath’s hot. You’re hungry, yes?”

“Always,” he agreed. “I hope you didn’t wait for me.”

“I got your message. Thank you for sending it. I had my usual Elvish green leaves at dusk.”

“I’m fine with something cold. No need to cook, as late as it is.”

“Shall I bring it to you in the bath?”

He looked me up and down, tempted, but shook his head. “I’m too rank for anything but a serious scrub right now. I’ll fetch something after, and join you in the garden.”

I returned to the garden to savor the starlight and moonlight, as well as the sounds of Kili scrubbing. He hummed softly to himself as he washed, and soon appeared with a towel around his waist and another in his hands that he rubbed briskly over his hair. I pulled my knees up, inviting him to join me on the settee. He shook his head vigorously to settle his hair over his shoulders, looped the towel around his neck, and cleared a few cushions out of the way at the other end of the settee.

“I’ll fetch a plate,” he said, and headed for the kitchen. After sounds of rummaging, clinking dishes, and slicing of bread, he reappeared with a tray holding his snack as well as a bottle of wine and two goblets. “I thought you might like a sip with me.”

“Thank you, _a’maelamin_ ; I would.” I took the goblets as he set down the tray, and held them out for him to pour. Once he’d seated himself, he arranged my legs over his lap, then leaned back against the bench to sip his wine. He gazed up at the moon, heaved a long, slow exhale, and looked over at me, smiling.

“Valar, that was fun today.”

“Swearing, mayhem, and carrying off of maids, followed by drinking, eating, and more swearing. Almost everything a Dwarf loves best.”

Laughing, Kili picked up his thick wedge of lamb pie and leaned back again as he took a leisurely bite. “That it was. The only thing missing is rampant coupling, which I will claim from you shortly as my spoils of war. Do you think you could squeak a bit, as a chaste virgin would during her first time?”

 “I don’t think so,” I demurred with a laugh. “I’m too fond of coupling with you to pretend otherwise. Besides, neither of us squeaked at all during our maiden coupling.”

“No, we didn’t.” Kili took another bite, following it with a sip of wine. He grinned as he resumed looking at the moon. “There was a lot of gasping and moaning and invocations to the Valar, though.”

“It was wonderful.” I sipped my wine. “We must make sure that naming ourselves wife and husband doesn’t change that.”

“Why would it?” Kili looked at me with a frown.

“Perhaps it is different for Dwarves, who are so much warmer blooded than Elves. Or perhaps because Elves live so long, it is easier for our ardor to settle into complacency. I have even known the rare case where a pairing has become indifferent. I would hate for that to be our lot.”

Kili thought about that as he finished his pie. He drained his goblet, still considering as he began on his bread and jam. “They lose their pairing? I thought you said that didn’t happen.”

“Their pairing holds. But their fires bank, and their embers fade to little more than a glow.”

He was still trying to make sense of this. “So... getting married changed their bond?”

“It changed their attitude, I think, not the bond itself. In some, it’s as if the formal ceremony makes them view the bond as something taken for granted, something that needs no attention to maintain. It becomes a skeleton without meat on its bones.”

“Oh, I see now,” Kili nodded, his face clearing. He finished off his bread, washing it down with a sip of wine. “I’ve seen that in Dwarves, but not the love matches; only the political alliances. But those were likely nothing much but your skeleton without meat to begin with.”

“Likely so,” I agreed.

“I can’t imagine ever taking you for granted. You’re too unexpected a treasure.”

His voice was tender, reverent. Kili set down his goblet to regard me consideringly, pulled the towel from around his shoulders, and let it drop beside the settee. He took up one of my ankles and pressed a kiss on it before he slipped it behind him. Sliding closer, he leaned forward to kiss me, his fingers searching for the fastenings of my gown. He smoothed the folds of silk aside, ran a single finger from my throat down past my navel, and put his broad hand over my sex. His hand traced slowly over my skin, not yet touching my most sensitive spots, but the warmth of his touch and the slow, teasing motion sent a flush over me from head to toe. He knew it from the catch of my breath, and the slow hardening of my nipples. I reached to draw him closer, but his hand slipped from my sex to my chest, urging me to stay against the pillows. He took my hand to kiss my wrist, then met my eyes.

“Please, _amrâlimê_ , let me bring you over the moon. Here, in the garden. Do you trust me enough to let me do that?”

His hand traced back down my torso to cover the warmth between my legs, rubbing it slowly, urging me how to answer. It seemed too one-sided, so I drew breath to protest.

“But don’t you want to –”

“I do. But first, I want to please you. It’s my gift to you. I don’t want you to think of anything but how good this feels. Savor it.”

His fingers slipped deeper in my folds, warm and sensitive, searching for the best spots to stroke. It was so easy to let him explore, stroke, caress, to let the warmth growing within me rise one small bit at a time. He slid closer, easing my leg wider to reveal more for him to touch. When he rubbed his thumb back and forth over my nipple, still stroking my sex, the combination sent exquisite pleasure surging through my body, even my fingers and toes. My legs slid farther apart of their own accord, and Kili dipped a finger just inside my opening, the slightest suggestion of a touch. That spiked the sensations even higher, so high that I tried to rock forward to draw him in deeper. But he pulled out, drawing a soft gasp from me. He leaned forward to touch his fingers to my lips, a touch that I felt in my nipples and my loins.

“Let me, _amrâlimê_. Savor being on the edge of the moon. See how long you can stay on that edge, just before you go over.”

Kili dipped deeper inside me, then drew out slowly, rubbing the top of my sex, the sides, and inside to flood me with pleasure. I drew in my breath at the exquisite slowness of his touch, muscles tensing because I craved more. When he bent to kiss, then suckle my nipples, two fingers went inside just the merest bit, promising more but not yet delivering. It was so maddening that I groped for his hand to push him in deeper. He took both my hands in one of his to hold them away, and kissed my lips so lightly that I wanted to bite him. Only then did he plunge his fingers in deeply, drawing my moan. As he stroked, he brought his other hand to bear, rubbing faster and faster against the soft skin around my opening, until every inch of me trembled like a burning leaf. That fire rose through my body, as hot as Kili’s own heat. I shut my eyes, my back arched, and my head went back. Climax flooded me, as intense as the light of the sun.

I still reeled when Kili laid himself over me and slipped inside. He was slow and delicate, to tease himself, to be gentle with me. He drew his knees up to cradle my legs, his head rested between my breasts, and his arms wrapped around the tops of my shoulders to hold me close. He lay still at first, then rubbed his chest against mine, his soft hair tickling me, his lips catching at my nipples, before settling himself deeply within me. He stroked slowly, carefully, watching me for any sign of discomfort, but there was none. I curled my legs around him, stroked my fingers down his flanks, wound one hand in his hair, but when I tightened around him, he stilled.

“Don’t. Not this time. You take me so fast that way. I want to savor you slowly.”

“The spoils of war?” I whispered, smiling.

His lips curved up as he kissed me. “And the joy of my life.”

I made a cradle for him as he teased himself as thoroughly as he had me. To watch him wring every drop of pleasure out of our coupling teased me as much as his slow stroking, his soft nuzzling, until I rose again. Feeling my growing heat, he insinuated a finger against the sensitive bud above my opening and caressed it in time with his thrusts inside me. That was too intense to resist, and I went over the moon again, carrying him with me. He gasped as his climax consumed him, holding me tightly against him. Then he calmed, and laid his head between my breasts.

“I wanted that very much,” he whispered. “You take me so fast sometimes, I wondered if you thought I couldn’t tend you like this, or thought my pleasure was more important. Or perhaps you didn’t trust me enough to let me see you savor the pleasure I gave you. I want to please you. I love to see you enjoy yourself.”

“Then you must be very, very happy,” I stroked his cheek, “because I enjoyed that very, very much.”

His face was alight with a grin that was both delighted and wondering. “I am.”

“I’ll not stop ambushing you in the bath, though,” I warned. “I love the look on your face when you know I’m going to bring you over the moon, and there’s nothing you can do about it, nor do you want to do anything about it. You fling yourself over the moon with complete abandon. It is headier than any wine that I’ve ever drunk.”

“Oh and oh, it is. I thank you for letting me see that same joy in you tonight. It was a gift.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” I admitted. “What I love to see in you is something you love as well. I will remember that. Old habits are hard to break, I am finding. I am too used to keeping myself to myself.”

“I thought as much,” Kili hummed in agreement. “But you don’t have to do that with me.”

He wrapped his arms around me and sat up, holding me in his lap. I folded my legs to either side of his hips to nestle atop him comfortably, my arms around his neck to caress his mane. He hummed in enjoyment, rubbing my back and thighs in long, slow strokes. He leaned back against the settee, smiling –

“What is this?” I asked, tracing a finger along a livid bruise that crossed the right side of his ribs.

“What is what?” he asked lazily.

“This mark. You’re bruised from side nearly to sternum.”

His lips quirked up. “That, _amrâlimê_ , is where your wand landed this morning.”

“It what? But the leather armor should have – ”

“It would have, if it had fit around me, but it didn’t. So I didn’t wear it.”

Oh, Kili, I am –”

“Stop,” he said quietly, still smiling. He touched my cheek. “I’m a Dwarf, not an Elf.”

“But I left that awful mark –”

“Which gained me the game and the maid,” he replied with satisfaction. “A maid I’ve had twice tonight and intend to have at least twice more. Maybe more, if I wince enough for you to feel sorry for me.”

“Does it hurt?”

He chuckled. “Nothing is broken, not even cracked. It’s just a bruise. Compared to what we both looked like after Erebor –”

He stopped abruptly, shutting his eyes. I smoothed his damp hair out of his eyes to kiss his forehead. “You’re right,” I whispered, arranging his hair over his shoulders one lock at a time. “It’s just a bruise.”

Sighing, he rubbed my back with restless hands. “Some of the Orc Spawn asked me if we were at Erebor. I said yes, but I couldn’t say more than that.”

“Nor do you have to. When you’re ready, however long that takes, you’ll speak of it, or not. It doesn’t matter.”

He looked into my eyes, smiling ruefully, but accepting my solace. “I hope one day you’ll be able to speak of who Lord Elrond said ‘encouraged King Thranduil’s conscience to hold the day.’ It’s a story I’d like to hear.”

“He was going to leave the battle, Kili. When I told him about Bolg’s army, the king intended to withdraw, even though your kin would die. He said you would all die some day, and it didn’t matter when. But it did matter, and I said so. Then...”

Kili took my hand to kiss it. “ _Amrâlimê_?”

I took a calming breath. “You were right about his arrogance. It made me so angry. I called him a coward. A murderer. He was about to kill me for that, and for loving you, but Legolas stopped him, then left with me to rejoin the battle. So it was truly Legolas who kept his father in the fight, not me, because as long as Legolas fought, his father had something to defend.”

Kili held my hand. “I cost you your place with your people.”

“King Thranduil had already banished me for defending you in the _Glawar-galad_ , so Erebor cost me nothing more.”

“I still cost you your place.”

I looked down at him and smiled. “You took away my life as a shadow, and gave me all we have now. Do you honestly think I would have it differently?”

He grinned. “No more than I. Now...” He stood up, holding me easily in his arms. “I am taking you to bed, and then I will take you to the moon at least twice more, because we have both earned it.”

“This will cost you when I attend tomorrow’s captains’ meeting,” I warned him.

“How so?” he cocked his head at me as he carried me into our bedroom.

“I’m going to have you assigned to more mock combat. If a quarter hour’s cavalry game drives you to such heights in my bed, I’m going to make sure you stay at the same fever pitch.”

His chuckle was appreciative, and his eyes sparkled. “How good you are to me, _amrâlimê_ ,” he said, as he eased off my robe, and laid us down.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life starts to change for our favorite Nandor warrior maid and her Dwarven archer, whereupon another exalted inhabitant of beautiful Imladris makes a sweet cameo appearance.

_Snaga had left his Warg’s carcass behind two days ago. He was thirsty, hungry, and so enraged that his hands ached to strangle whatever living thing strayed across his path. But the land between Mount Gundebad and Mirkwood remained as barren as it had been since the battle on the Dragon’s Mount. Even Wargs were scarce, so he’d had no chance to snare a new mount. Walking was infuriating enough now, because of the slow, energy-eating pace he was reduced to. It would prove deadly in short order if he had to report back like a common tunnel maggot, without a mount, without good news, with only stinking demands from the Gundebad Orcs. His captain would fly into a killing mood, and on foot Snaga would as likely end up as food for his captain’s Warg as the target of a scimitar or two. He snarled to himself, and hunkered down in the clutch of rocks that would shelter him until nightfall. The sun overhead was too bright, too hot, turning his dark skin into a blistered container for boiling meat. Sliding closer to a rock that offered a bit more shade, Snaga cursed the Heir of Durin under his breath for the thousandth time since dawn. It would likely be another thousand curses before the sun fell, and he could continue his limping path home._

_* * *_

 

I woke slowly, lazily, smiling. Tauriel and I had taken full measure of each other last night, and I was as drained of seed as an empty water skin cast away in a desert. It was a good ache, worthy of savoring, so I stretched gingerly, testing my ribs to see how sore they were from Tauriel’s whack. When they gave easily, I stretched to my fullest, and thought about Tauriel’s sweet body against mine. What was even sweeter was how she’d let me bring her over the moon. She was so beautiful, graceful, ethereal, a creature of fire and air, where I was so solidly planted on the earth. I still felt awe every time I looked at her, and wondered how she had come to love me. But she had told me so often how my fire drew hers that I finally believed it, so once again I was reassured that my good fortune was real.

Of course, fire wasn’t the only element that drew us together. We were also quite compatible in bathwater.

I got up when I couldn’t ignore my stomach any longer. Tauriel was already gone to serve today’s duty, so I splashed my face in the basin and admired the streak of livid purple she’d dealt me across my ribs. Ethereal Tauriel might look, but there was power in her blows, and she’d marked me well, which made me smile proudly at her prowess. It would have been a mortal blow if she’d held a sword, so woe unto any Orc who got within her reach.

In a few days, though, the bruises Tauriel had given me would fade without reminder. I considered as I pulled on tunic and trews, and padded barefoot into the kitchen to forage. Did Elves ever tattoo themselves? I could ink Tauriel’s name in Dwarvish runes across my ribs to remind us both – no, better to put the runes over my heart. The muscle might still pump under my ribs, but Tauriel had had the spirit of it since that day in Mirkwood. I relived that first glance of her, careening down the hill on the back of a dead spider, while I cooked my eggs, wolfed them down, and scrubbed the skillet. Dwalin would have done the tattoo for me, though he would’ve sneered at the sentiment. His idea of a proper tattoo was to boldly emblazon “Axes of the Dwarves!” and “The Dwarves are upon you!” across his knuckles. An Elf would make a more elegant job of a tattoo, if it were an art they practiced. I put the idea aside for now.

I wouldn’t serve duty until after luncheon, so I’d work on our marriage jewelry this morning. I hoped to finish today, so I could take the ear rings with me to show to an apothecary. Elves didn’t sicken the way Men or Dwarves did, but apothecaries were still needed to tend wounds, which is just what I wanted. I could pierce Tauriel’s ears myself, if not my own, but I wanted an apothecary to do both; an Elf’s more delicate hand would reduce the chance of scarring Tauriel’s beautiful skin, and would see that the rings sat evenly.

Maybe I would ask about the tattoo at the same time.

My time at the forge passed quickly, for I had little left to do. I took my time on engraving our names inside the rings, for they were narrow and needed a steady hand. But at the end of two or three hours, I polished the last ring, secured the six of them in a small leather bag, and headed home with them in my pocket. I stowed the lot in Tauriel’s wedding box, made my luncheon, and changed into my guardsmen uniform to head to the arms hall.

Tauriel was on the practice ground when I came in. Oh and oh, that was interesting – she had a lot of maids gathered around her. She might tease me about my bad influence on the High Elves, but I thought she’d end up causing more upheaval than I. A stir had gone up at her arrival, because few maids served on the Rivendell guard, but more had gotten interested once they’d seen Tauriel. How could they not? My Nandor maid was so skilled that what she did seemed effortless, and that grace appealed to more than her dark Dwarf. I’d seen some of our male comrades watch her with a dawning look on their faces, and some of the maids had seen those looks, too. So whether because of interest in the arts of war, or in the arts of love, Tauriel had a following. Now, it seemed, she had a class to teach, too.

I didn’t interrupt, but passed on to check the duty roster to see what I’d be doing today. I was concerned when I found no assignment, only a terse note to see Oteriel. Oh, Valar; had someone overheard the Orc Spawn’s gutter talk from yesterday? I schooled myself to innocence and gravity (an interesting combination, but I smothered a smile) and headed for Oteriel’s sanctuary.

“You wanted to see me, Master Oteriel?”

“Kili.” The master turned away from his worktable, acknowledging my bow. “Tauriel has suggested that you need more of a challenge.”

I absolutely did not grin at how she’d come to that conclusion, because Master Oteriel didn’t need to know. “What kind of challenge, sir?” I asked cautiously.

“You’ve learned our drills well, and it’s clear that you’ve served combat duty many times, so it does not help your skills to continue your focus on the unreality of drills. You will go on rotation with the perimeter guards. That means you will ride outside Imladris on a regular basis, and will need a detailed understanding of the areas you will patrol. See Ularnen, Master of the Maps. You will spend as long in your study of geography as he deems necessary before you will be assigned to patrol. Your knowledge may save a comrade’s life, just as your lack of it may cost one, so apply yourself accordingly.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, smiling. This was exciting. But Oteriel wasn’t done with me yet.

“Your addition to the patrol rotation will not be the only change in your duties. Yesterday’s cavalry games made quite an impression on Lord Elrond, not the least of which was your... lack of convention to take the game.”

He skewered me with his stern gaze, but I met it without blinking. “As you said, I’ve served warrior contracts for many different peoples, all with different warrior duties. A mercenary has to be a quick study, so I can’t serve well unless I know a dozen ways to tackle a fight, just like I can’t patrol until I know the land around Imladris. Not only that, enemies don’t follow convention, even their own. So I was taught to use whatever works to keep me and my comrades alive to fight again.”

Oteriel nodded, his gaze clearing a bit. “So Lord Elrond said to me. We are not so familiar with the ways of other peoples, so you will remedy that. Three times a week, you will teach your lack of convention to our warriors.”

I grinned widely, but didn’t crow. “Yah, that’d be fine. When do I start?”

Oteriel smiled suddenly, a rather anticipatory expression. “As soon as we have the proper padding for you. You won’t get off so easily with a single crack to the ribs, Master Dwarf. Tauriel has stressed the need to push you, and you’ll need all the padding you can find.”

I chuckled, which Oteriel had the grace to share. “She’s a treasure, she is. But you Elves make sure of your own padding, too. One good blow deserves another, and a Dwarf hits hard.”

He finally smiled broadly. “Take yourself off to the saddler, then, and to Master Ularnen after.”

“Yes sir. And I thank you.”

I bowed, still grinning, and retreated when Oteriel made his own bow. I rubbed my hands in anticipation, and aimed for the saddler’s cubby in the stable, but stopped when Tauriel called my name. She had another maid with her, one of her students, I expected, because she was dressed in utilitarian tunic, leggings, and boots, and plain silver headdress that kept her rich brown braids away from her face. She carried a lovely curved sword in a sheath at her hip, and a matching long knife sheathed on her opposite thigh. I kept the cheeky greeting to myself, and fell back on the usual hand over my heart and bow.

“Tauriel,” I greeted, smiling.

She indicated the tall, graceful Elf maid with her. If I thought Tauriel was ethereal, this maid glowed like warm alabaster lit from within, and her smile wasn’t just from the Valar – it was the smile of the Valar itself. Whoever this maid was, she was a regal and exalted one, even if she dressed like a guardsman.

“Kili, let me present you to Lady Arwen Undòmiel, Lord Elrond’s daughter.”

Regal and exalted indeed, as well as beautiful – I’m afraid I gaped a bit to look at her before I hastily closed my mouth. The dark eyes that met mine were as deep as her father’s, and as wise, but her wisdom was tempered with a more overt humor. When she smiled, I didn’t feel rustic for gaping at her, but pleased that she’d taken it as a compliment.

“Lady Arwen,” I murmured, bowing to her. “It’s my honor.”

“It is mine to meet you,” she nodded, her hand on her heart. Her smile was a surprise – I’d expected its grace and gravity, but the joy in it was like spring coming after winter, and completely enthralling. “I have heard about our newest friend from my father. I am pleased to meet you for myself at last.”

I thought about what it would be like to call the awe-inspiring Lord Elrond father, and couldn’t quite grasp it.

“Lady Arwen wanted to ask you a question, Kili,” Tauriel explained. She had a look of confidence on her face. I hoped this wasn’t some sort of test devised by maids. I switched my gaze to Lady Arwen and spread my hands.

“I’ll do my best, Lady. Ask away.”

Arwen’s smile widened. “Tauriel has let slip that you and she will wed. That will be a joyous day, and I offered her one of the pavilions in the heart of the city for your ceremony, if you both would like it.”

I slid my gaze to Tauriel, but her face was closed, revealing nothing. Oh, so this _was_ some sort of maid’s test. Tauriel and I hadn’t thought past the agreement to have a ceremony yet, but I knew what my preference was.

“That is very kind of you. But, to be honest, Lady, as Tauriel’s likely said, I’m not much for big, elaborate, public ceremonies. Too overdone by halves, I’d say. Overwhelming, really. I haven’t asked Tauriel what she’d like. But for myself, I’d like to have what little ceremony we have in our own garden.” I glanced at Tauriel to gauge her reaction. “A good friend helped us start it, and we’ve done the rest ourselves, and we’re very happy there. Having our ceremony there would be another reason to cherish it. Meaning no disrespect.”

Arwen met Tauriel’s eyes with a knowing smile. “You were right, Tauriel. Your garden is what you said he would choose.”

Tauriel’s lips trembled in a smile, so I looked at her narrowly. “You said the garden, too? You did.”

She nodded. “I did, and for the same reasons.”

I gave an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, good. I passed the test, then. And the garden it is.”

Tauriel and Lady Arwen both chuckled at my obvious relief.

“When is the day?” Lady Arwen asked.

“We haven’t chosen one,” Tauriel said. She explained about Gandalf and Lady Arwen’s father as witness. “I don’t think either of us is particular about a specific date. Are you, Kili?” When I shook my head, she went on. “So I think we should ask Lord Elrond to choose the day, because a wizard and the Lord of Imladris are most busy, and this way they could choose what is best for them.”

I nodded. “Prudent, I’d say. I finished our rings this morning, _amrâlimê_ , so all we need is the wizard or the lord.”

Tauriel’s smile transformed her face so that she looked almost as celestial as Arwen. Lord Elrond’s daughter looked back and forth between us. “So it is true, the bond between you is the one without end. I envy you.”

I took Tauriel’s hand and kissed it. “I envy me, too, Lady.”

Lady Arwen’s laughter was nearly silent, but as graceful as the rest of her.

“What do you say, Tauriel?” I asked. “Any day in the next month or two, at the convenience of wizards and lords?”

At Tauriel’s immediate nod, Lady Arwen’s smile grew wider. “I would be happy to convey that to my father.”

“That would be kind of you,” Tauriel replied. “We need only three or four days notice, so we can make the feast.”

“Feast?” I echoed.

“Feast,” Tauriel nodded firmly. “Kili, you don’t think we’re just going to have a blessing and that’s all, do you? We’re going to have a feast afterwards, and we’ll have the Orc Spawn and my maid’s class and our training comrades to help us celebrate. With a lot of wine. And ale.”

Now that I thought about it, I realized that of course we needed a marriage feast – that was as much a part of the occasion as the witnessing and the rings. It wouldn’t begin to border on the outrageousness of a Dwarven marriage banquet, but it would be happy and joyous, and given that this was Rivendell, there would be singing, which wasn’t a bad way to celebrate anything.

“You’re right, Tauriel. I hadn’t given that a thought, but you’re right. All right, then.”

“Then I look forward to attending,” Lady Arwen’s eyes glowed with anticipation as she clasped Tauriel’s hands. “As one of your students, I already offer my acceptance.”

That was something – the regal daughter of Lord Elrond was one of my _amrâlimê’s_ students, and she was excited to have lunch in our garden. I shook my head at the rare twists that my life had taken, and silently thanked the Valar for all of it.

“We’ll be most happy to welcome you,” Tauriel replied.

“It’ll be an honor,” I seconded.

“I will speak to my father today, and let you know what his pleasure is.”

Tauriel and I bowed. “Thank you.”

Lady Arwen left us with a spring in her step. I watched her leave, and hummed to myself.

“What, _a’maelamin_?” Tauriel asked, her eyebrows rising with curiosity.

“You Elves are amazing,” I exhaled. “You’re all so many times my age, and you all look so ethereal and celestial, and then you go and get excited about having a bit of luncheon in a tiny garden that’s still half empty.”

“I hope you’re excited about it, too,” Tauriel cocked her head at me.

“Goes without saying,” I shrugged. “Just how many folk have you invited to our garden?”

“No more than fifty, I’d say,” Tauriel said casually, but I caught her looking at me with a glint in her eye.

“Fifty?”

“We have a dozen comrades. I have at least that many maids in my class. I suspect you’ll have twice that in your class on mayhem –”

“Lack of convention,” I corrected. “Oteriel called it my lack of convention.”

“And we both know he meant mayhem, and you mean it, too. So that’s four dozen altogether. Plus a wizard or a lord or both, and that makes fifty.”

I exhaled. “Bilbo’s cookery book is about to get a trial by cook fire.”

“It will soon, but not this afternoon. I’m off to Master Ularnen.”

“The map maker? So am I. What are you going there for?”

“I’ve been put on perimeter patrol, but not until I learn the ways around Imladris.”

“So have I!” I exclaimed. “Good! We can learn together. Oh, first I have to see the saddler. I can’t teach mayhem until I’m properly padded. I wonder who called for that?”

“The same maid who wants her husband to survive the day,” she said pertly. “So go, and I’ll see you shortly in the map room.”

I kissed her hand. “Until then, _amrâlimê_.”

 

* * *

 

Considering that Kili and I lived in a city that had not changed for many hundreds of years, our lives quickened at a headlong pace. Both of us were still students of Quenya and arms work, but now we learned how to read maps and become teachers. I savored my time with the maids of the city who were inclined to take up the guard, for they were bright as stars. This was also the first time I had ever made friends with my own sex, and I had all manner of things to learn, though I did not share their love of gossip, given that Kili and I were often in the center of it. My dark Dwarf would have been embarrassed at the number of questions I got about him – or perhaps he would have been flattered. Let us say that Elf maids did not find him nearly so ugly as Dwarf maids did. He had told me once that his own people had wondered whether his sire was an Elf. Given the sparkle in his eye and his ability to be graceful when he chose, I thought there might be some truth to it. But I kept that to myself, for the truth didn’t matter to me.

Kili’s class in mayhem was quite popular, as much to watch as to take part in it. I took it myself, both as student and as demonstration mannequin to help him show how a shorter fighter bested a taller one. He was down to earth and straightforward with his instructions in what amounted to controlled brawling, which was the only prudent hope of success against the formidable Gundebad Orcs. He got several orders for his Dwarvish blade deflectors before too many classes passed.

Once my classes began, Kili told me privately about the most appalling Orc practice that I had ever heard, their habit to breed further abominations on Women as well as Elf maids. He wanted me to offer the maids as many defensive tactics as possible so as to remove themselves from such abuse. Of course I agreed. My skin had crawled when he’d told me of this Orcish atrocity, even though his words had conveyed only the barest description, and if I could spare even a single maid from it, I would. I began to teach accordingly, and when my students were adept enough, Kili brought along several of his tallest students for mine to practice on. Many found that they needed as much padding as Kili, for I taught my maids to hit hard.

In and around all of this, we progressed enough in our map reading that we went out on our first perimeter patrols around Imladris. Wisely, our first patrol was with a full complement of the guard, so that we’d have plenty of force to bring to bear if something went awry. But nothing did, and despite the seriousness of our charge, it was hard not to enjoy the new summer day, the bright sun, the shifts of the clouds over the rock-strewn land, the effortless galloping over the undulating green studded with wildflowers. Kili sat Trellennan with confidence, his extra strapping all but unneeded given his improved abilities. We did a little archery practice to shoot at an old post erected long ago for such things; Kili’s eye with his bow was as sharp as ever. As newest members of the patrol, Kili and I were charged with collecting the scattered arrows near the post, but Trellennan was well trained now to give Kili the leg up he needed to get back in the saddle, so his height no longer put him at any disadvantage. We passed the arrows back to the Elves as they rode by, remounted, and completed the rest of our patrol.

Thoughts of our upcoming ceremony were still foremost, but we didn’t talk about them while on duty. That we saved for our time together at our home. We had discussed and debated which of Bilbo’s delicacies to make for the feast, and we had even decided to indulge ourselves with new clothes for the occasion. In honor of our bath where we shared such delight, we made them in sea blue, the color of water – dark for Kili, and light for me. We visited the apothecary and had plain studs put in our ears to hold the places for our wedding rings. When many of our friends asked about presents, we decided that since our house was already outfitted with things that suited us, we would ask for plants for our garden, so that we would be reminded of the givers as we sat by our fountain.

All that remained to be done, outside of cooking, was for Lord Elrond or Gandalf to tell us the date. We were both at the height of anticipation to know. Many were the Elves in Kili’s mayhem class who suffered bruises despite their padding, even when three or four of them went against him at once. Pushing himself to exhaustion helped him to sleep, though several times he was still wakeful enough to sit with me in the garden under the stars. My maid’s class grew just as intense, and the male Elves who acted as our foils suffered accordingly, as did we.

Finally, finally, Lady Arwen beckoned after my morning class. “In three days,” she whispered, as if she shared a conspiracy. “Will that suit?”

“I’ll ask Kili, but I think so. Oh, I think so.”

“Good. Look, there he is. Go ask him.”

She gave me a little push, so I scampered across the practice area to talk to him. He saw my excitement and Lady Arwen behind me, so was already smiling as I caught his hands.

“Yes,” he said, before I’d even spoken his name. “Whatever day they chose, yes.”

“Three days from now, then.”

The only thing that overshadowed Kili’s grin was the light in his eyes. “What time?”

I gaped, then laughed in chagrin. “I didn’t ask.”

“I don’t care,” he whispered, but nodded at Lady Arwen. “But we ought to ask.”

“You choose that,” Lady Arwen said, when we’d hurried to her.

“Noon,” I said. “Then we’ll have lots of time to celebrate afterwards.”

“That’s good,” Kili agreed.

“We’ll have time to lay out a good feast, too,” Arwen added. She laughed at my surprise. “You have friends. We won’t leave you to do all the cooking on your wedding day. Expect us at eleven.”

She hurried away, leaving Kili and me to look at each other. “We never asked whether it would be Lord Elrond or Gandalf,” I realized.

“I don’t care about that, either,” Kili shook his head. Exhaling, he looked up at the roof, then grinned at the clutch of maids who lingered by the stable door to look at us. My dark Dwarf reached for my shoulders, urged me lower, and kissed me soundly. “I don’t care about any of it, including how many of your maids see me kiss you. As long as our day gets here.”

I kissed him back soundly. “Before it does, I’m off for patrol. I’ll see you at home.”

He stroked my cheek. “Good hunting, _amrâlimê_ , then come home to me.”

We separated in body, but not in thought.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The big day is finally here!
> 
> Hope you enjoy the sweetness... but you know there will be mayhem, too :-).

__Snaga crouched behind his rock again_ as the cursed Elf patrol thundered by on their tall horses. Yes, there was the red-haired she-Elf, but where was the stunted one? They’d both ridden in yesterday’s patrol, even shooting arrows at an ancient post for practice. Snaga hadn’t liked how close he’d been to that post, crammed in an animal lair under rocks just a few yards beyond, but he’d been close enough to see the she-Elf and the stunted one clearly when they’d dismounted to retrieve the patrol’s arrow The stunted one _was _a Dwarf, albeit a very tall and slender one, for there was no disguising the breadth of his shoulders and the strength in his body. What Snaga wouldn’t have done to be under a rock closer to that post! It would almost have been worth dying under a barrage of Elven arrows just to leap out, slit the she-Elf’s throat, then gut the Dwarf. Almost anything was better than staying pent under these rocks. But he had too much to avenge against this wretched pair of Dwarf and Elf to die quite yet._

_Last night, Snaga had heard the distant baying of Wargs, but too close to dawn for him to leave his lair and reach the forests before the Elves patrolled again. If he could stay hidden from the patrol today, if the dark fell after their retreat, if he heard the Wargs early enough, he would fling himself towards the forests to the north of the cursed Elves’ valley, and find the Wargs. With a mount underneath him, he’d find his captain to tell him about the Heir of Durin secreted in that valley, and what they stood to gain in hunting him, whether for themselves or the damned Gundebad Orcs._

_The Dwarf did not patrol today. The Elves made their last sweep before galloping past Snaga’s hiding spot, the she-Elf’s red hair flying in the breeze like a blood banner. He licked his dry lips with a parched tongue. How good it would be to slake his thirst in her blood, and make a blood banner for himself with the blood that remained. If his luck changed tonight, then he’d be closer to doing just that._

_* * *_

 

Our witnessing ceremony was today. Despite how late it had been before I’d slept last night, I woke early, full of anticipation. No, Tauriel and I hadn’t spent the starlight hours savoring each other’s delights, for once. We’d bid each other a chaste goodnight, then separated, she retreating to our garden and the starlight, and I to our bedroom. I couldn’t speak for Tauriel, but I wanted to spend this night without her as a reminder of what my lot had once been, and what it would never be again as long as we both lived. I wanted to miss her, to ache because she didn’t lie beside me, to reaffirm my promise to love her, protect her, treasure her. Taking full measure of doing without her would sweeten everything she and our child would be in my future.

Missing Tauriel, and anticipating today’s ceremony, had kept me awake for hours, but at last I’d dropped off, despite how tired I’d been. Tauriel had to have been as tired as I, for we’d both stood duty, then hurried home to finish three days of baking, cooking, stuffing, slicing, and arranging. Our larder was crammed to the last shelf, both with our creations as well as treats from our friends. The flock of Tauriel’s maids had provided many platters of greens, cakes, fruits, and pies both sweet and savory, and the Orc Spawn had stocked wine, ale, flowers, meats, and rolls. How a mere fifty Elves would eat all that would be on our dining table, I didn’t know.

I bathed carefully, scrubbing and soaping and rinsing until I was the cleanest Dwarf that had ever existed. How Fili would have laughed at me... and how I wished I could hear him do so. I would have been proud for him to stand with me today.

_Blessed Valar, look after Fili’s spirit, for I could not have asked for a better brother, friend, and companion._

Still thinking of Fili, I dried off, put on my robe, and padded to the kitchen.

Tauriel sat at the table, cradling her teacup in her hands. Her hair was loose and unbraided, and she seemed as pensive as I. I stroked her hair gently, and bent to kiss her ear.

“You are very beautiful this morning,” I whispered.

She looked up at me with her luminous emerald eyes, and then hugged me. I cradled her against my chest, stroking her hair.

“Still willing to wed a dark Dwarf lad?”

She made a near silent laugh. “As willing as you are to wed a fiery Elf maid.”

It was my turn to laugh. “That’s damned willing, then.”

“Yes. It is.”

I snorted in self-deprecation. “Do you think we’ll ever stop mooning about like this?”

Tauriel’s laugh turned playful. “Outside of our home, perhaps in a day or two. Inside, it will take far longer, at least for my part.”

“Mine, too.” I patted Tauriel’s back, then released her to peruse the larder for my breakfast. I came out with a few biscuits, a wedge of cheese, some ham, a plate of various cakes, and three pickled eggs.

“You can’t wait for the afternoon’s party, I see,” Tauriel teased.

I stuffed an egg in my mouth. “There’s so much food in the larder that the shelves are about to collapse. I’ll have to work for a week to eat all the remnants.”

Tauriel helped herself to one of my cakes. “It is a mountain,” she agreed, taking a nibble. “Mmm; I haven’t tasted this one before. Delicious.”

“Tastes like honey, doesn’t it? I think that one’s from Giriel. How soon before the troops descend upon us?”

“We have almost two hours. Time to eat at your leisure before we have to dress.”

“Dress before we do our braids?”

“Before, I think. Less chance to muss. The last thing I’ll do is to take out my ear studs.”

“I’ve got your jewelry casket on the table by the bed, so I’ll have it to hand.”

We finished our breakfast, glad to savor the quiet of our own company before our visitors began to arrive. Before long, we cleaned up the crumbs and the teacups, and got ourselves dressed in our finery. Tauriel was always beautiful, but today she looked like I’d always imagined Nessa, the ever-young Valar queen, should look when she danced, in layers of varying sea blue trimmed in silver thread. My coat and undertunic were sleek and fitted, which made the most of my strange build, and were a darker shade of Tauriel’s sea blue, trimmed with the same silver pattern of threads. It was soothing to work our braids, both to handle Tauriel’s brilliant hair and to have her fingers soothe through mine. We regarded each other with critical eyes, straightening a fold here or a drapery there. My _amrâlimê’s_ hair was nearly to her hips, falling over her like the finest cloak of red silk. Here and there, her braids shimmered with tiny blue and crystal beads to sparkle in the sun. My hair had grown a lot since we’d come here last winter, falling past my ribs, and under Tauriel’s hand it was glossy and thick. Even better, my braids were finally ones I could be proud of, finished off with silver Dwarven clasps.

“I think we look quite good,” Tauriel pronounced, brushing a miniscule bit of fluff from my sleeve.

“You look more than quite good, _amrâlimê_. You look divine. Oh, the studs. Let me take out your ear studs.”

Her lips curved as I removed hers gently, then she did the same for me. “Wait until the Elf maids see you with your beautiful rings sparkling in your ears. I’ll have a hard time getting you away from them.”

“The Orc Spawn might try to keep you, too, rings or no. I’ll fight my way free if you will, and we’ll meet by the fountain to make our escape.”

I stuck out my hand, which Tauriel slapped in the guardsmen’s manner to seal a deal. “Done.”

A knock on the door echoed though to us, and we met each other’s eyes. “So it begins,” Tauriel said.

I held her long enough to kiss her. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

We went to answer the door, hand in hand. Several of Tauriel’s maids, including Arwen – she’d insisted we dispense with her title – came in laughing and singing, all of them arrayed in gossamer silks to rival the flowers in our garden, and their arms full of the plants they’d brought for wedding gifts, more platters of food, and sheaves of candles. They descended upon the larder like butterflies to arrange the dishes on our dining table. The door banged again, and this time it was our guardsmen cohorts and more students in their finery – and there was Master Oteriel as well, which was a great pleasure. Two of the lads carried a cask of ale; two more carried one of red wine. We set those up in the corners of the dining room, and soon our house rang with jokes, scraps of songs, and laughter as more folk arrived. Some of the maids and lads went into the garden to arrange the pots of gifted plants in the empty borders; others arranged the cushions and stools many had brought to supplement our benches and chairs. We even had a few musicians in a corner – harp, lute, and recorder. I chortled, recalling Nori on my first visit to Rivendell. He hadn’t liked the sedate Elvish dinner music then, but he’d like today’s choices – merry folk tunes and happy Elf lilts, mostly. Folk began to nibble and sip, and soon the music and laughter overshadowed the sound of our fountain.

I’d joined the singing around the musicians when Arwen touched my shoulder.

“Your witness is here, Kili.”

I turned, and there was Lord Elrond coming into the garden. He smiled and bowed as folk greeted him, and as he came closer, behind him was –

“Mithrandir!” Tauriel cried. My reserved, private Elf maid rushed forward to hug the wizard and kiss his cheek. Even better, she gave just as enthusiastic a hug to Lord Elrond, and planted a kiss on his cheek that was emphatic enough to startle him and make Gandalf laugh heartily, as well as the rest of our guests. “Thank you, Lord Elrond. Thank you for coming here today, and for bringing Mithrandir. You are both very welcome.”

Lord Elrond shot me a look of amusement. Someone passed by me carrying a tray of goblets, so I grabbed two and went to Tauriel’s side. I held one out to the Lord of Rivendell with the cheekiest grin I could muster. “I can’t compete with my beautiful wife for a glad greeting, but I can offer you a goblet of wine. Welcome to the party.”

Lord Elrond took his goblet with an appreciative laugh. “I haven’t been welcomed so well to anything in an age, so you have my deepest thanks. Your gathering has already surpassed my daughter’s description, and I’ve only just arrived.”

I laughed, and turned to greet Gandalf with a deep bow. “Gandalf, it’s an honor to see you again. As I remember, you like red wine, too. The glass is bigger than the one Dori gave you at Bilbo’s, and when it’s empty, the cask is in the dining room.”

“Excellent! By the bye, Bilbo sends his sincere regrets,” the wizard replied, smiling. “We’d no sooner reached the Shire than Lord Elrond’s message arrived, and he was not ready to face another eagle ride, I’m afraid. But he asked me to bring you some fireworks, and so I have.”

“Wonderful!” I exclaimed. “Tauriel’s never seen them. You’ll love them, _amrâlimê_. But first, please, won’t you and Lord Elrond make yourself a plate? We’ve got more food than a hobbit’s larder, so help yourself to lots. And sit anywhere you can find a spot.”

The party swirled back into full voice, which was entirely Lord Elrond’s doing. He was amazing; not only was he wise and thoughtful, but he enjoyed himself openly, so everyone else could, too, without wilting under a lord’s glare from on high. He and Arwen even danced when a few couples started a round, and I had a turn with that graceful maid, as Tauriel did with her father. Gandalf was in his element, gaily dancing with the maids, laughing and conversing. It was nearing midafternoon before Gandalf approached me by the fountain.

“Isn’t it time to tell all these folk why we’re having such a grand time on this fine summer afternoon?” he said, smiling.

“I think it is. Let me get Tauriel’s box.”

I skipped off to retrieve the silver box with its precious contents. Yes, everything was within as it should be. I flagged down Giriel and Arwen, who went to fetch Tauriel. Then I stood by the fountain with Gandalf behind me. On the other side came Tauriel with Lord Elrond behind her. As we assembled, our guests quieted, and arranged themselves on the cushions, chairs, and even the bare flagstones. I met Tauriel’s eyes with a wink, telling her I was ready, so she turned to our friends.

“I am glad that all of you are here on the happiest day of my life, when Kili and I make the formal announcement that we are wed... well, as formal as either of us can be.”

“Especially me,” I inserted, which got a laugh.

“ _Especially_ Kili,” Tauriel agreed, but her eyes were warm as she said it. “Long ago, I lost my family. Last winter, I lost my home. After that, I nearly lost the most precious thing in my life. But not only did that precious treasure return to me, so did so much more, so much that I hardly believe it. I live in Middle Earth’s fairest city, thanks to Gandalf and Lord Elrond. I have friends in all of you. But most importantly, I have the love of my life in Kili. So today, Kili and I celebrate the great bounty that the Valar have bestowed upon us, and we are glad that you came to celebrate with us.”

Soft murmurs of acknowledgement met Tauriel’s words. Now it was my turn. “This is the happiest day of my life, too. How I managed to get a beautiful Nandor warrior maid enamored of me is a mystery, but however I did it, I thank the Valar, too. She is the light in my world.”

I held up Tauriel’s jewelry casket. “It’s the custom of Dwarves that a lad has to make something of his own hands to present to his maid. This is the box I made for Tauriel. It holds the marriage jewelry I made for the two of us. So Tauriel, here is the box I made for you, and I hope you will accept it.”

I got down on my knees to hold it up, which probably looked ridiculous among so many tall Elves. But Tauriel sank to hers, and took the box with a smile. “It is my greatest honor to accept this beautiful box, Kili, as well as what it contains.”

She opened the box, and held it out to me. I took it, and she took out the first small ring to gently set it into my ear lobe. An interested buzz went up at our novel choice of marriage jewelry, and folk craned their necks to see what Tauriel had put in my ear. She placed the second one, then smoothed my hair. Next, she took out my marriage ring, and put it on my finger.

“I choose you for my husband, Kili.”

She took back the box, so I could set her ear rings in place, then her marriage ring.

“I choose you for my wife, Tauriel.”

We got to our feet, and looked back at Gandalf and Lord Elrond; the latter held his hand out to the former, so Gandalf stepped forward to put a hand on each of our shoulders. “With great pleasure do I witness this most wonderful of the pairings it has been my privilege to oversee. I invoke the blessings of the Valar upon Tauriel and Kili for long life and many joys in the midst of sunlight, and steadfast hope that never dies even in the midst of darkness. All fortune to you!”

Lord Elrond took Gandalf’s place. “It is also my great pleasure to witness this pairing. May it remain green and growing always, and may Imladris blossom with the bounty that Tauriel and Kili bring to us. All fortune to you!”

We’d done it. We were wed, and there would be no undoing it, which was just what we both wanted. As our friends applauded, I looked over to my smiling wife. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Only if I can kiss you first,” Tauriel replied, laughing. She knelt, grasped my shoulders, and kissed me thoroughly. I wrapped my arms around her and gave her just as serious a kiss back. It must have been a good one, because Gandalf was not the only one who laughed.

“That is the signal for all to replenish their wine!” he announced, then looked down at us kindly as many got up to visit the dining room. “You are truly the most amazing pair,” he nodded, half speaking to himself. “See that you look after each other, and that coming child. Let nothing dim your hope for the future, for we will need it one day.”

Tauriel touched his arm. “Thank you for being here to bless us, Mithrandir. How can we not hold our hope, when we have had a wizard and the High Lord of Rivendell at this start of our life together?”

“Do not forget that,” he said softly, patting her arm. “All will prevail if you hold to hope.”

He moved off, calling for someone to point him to the wine cask. Lord Elrond watched him go before turning to us. “Happy celebration to you both, and may you share as many more as there are leaves on every tree.”

Tauriel and I bowed deeply to him. “Thank you! I’m humbled that you got Mithrandir here for us, and that you came yourself, too. It’s an honor.”

He grinned at me. “I’m honored in turn, Kili. It’s not often that our resident expert in mayhem is humbled in anything.”

“Oh, yes, it is, sir,” I disagreed, taking Tauriel’s hand. “I’m humbled every time I think about the most wonderful maid in the world agreeing to be my wife, because it’s an honor I don’t know how I deserve, but somehow I managed it. I’m also humbled to have the chance to live here in Imladris. Then to have the Lord of Imladris speak kindly at my wedding, that’s more of the same good fortune. I don’t know what Gandalf said to you, but I’m glad you forgave that episode in the fountain.”

“And the cream cake,” Tauriel inserted, but she was giggling.

“And the cream cake. I’m sorry about that. I was aiming at Bofur, not you. And I haven’t thrown a thing since.”

“I appreciate your restraint,” Lord Elrond said blandly, but his eyes were full of humor, which made me feel better. “I shall endeavor to exercise the same restraint today, once I find another glass of wine and a few more cakes.”

He followed Gandalf into the dining room, where they and Master Oteriel were soon engrossed in conversation.

That was the last calm moment Tauriel and I had for some time to come. At Lord Elrond’s retreat, we were both inundated with well-wishers who wanted to see the rings in our ears and exclaim over the braid patterns I’d worked into the metal. If I’d wanted to be a jeweler, I would’ve had my fill of commissions for some months to come, just on the strength of those small rings, not to mention the larger ones on our fingers. So many congratulatory mugs of ale came my way that I decided I’d misjudged my friends. This still wasn’t as raucous as a Dwarvish wedding feast, but it was getting closer than I’d expected. Singing was soon in full swing, and the dancing got a little livelier, and it was a good thing Tauriel and I lived on a deserted street, given the racket that ensued. As dusk grew nigh, candles were lit all over the garden to rival the fireflies. Tauriel and I saw each other in passing as the dancing wove around the garden, and her smile grew each time we passed.

Things remained reasonably sedate for a wedding feast, until night fell, and the Orc Spawn started singing something I’d never thought to hear – a bawdy Dwarvish song. It wasn’t in _Khazuduhl_ , and the Common Tongue translation had smoothed over the worst offending bits, but I still recognized it. So, of course I had to get up and sing it the way it was supposed to be sung, and since no one understood _Khazuduhl_ , I didn’t offend anyone. The Elves laughed as if this were the funniest thing they’d ever heard, but the wine cask and even the ale cask were getting seriously depleted by then, so a lot of them would have laughed if I’d sung a dirge.

With all the folk in our small house on a midsummer’s night, with all that wine and all that food, with all those flickering candles and dancing and singing, it was hot. Coats and overtunics and gauzy overwraps came off, and a lot of the maids were barefooted by then. Lord Elrond was still there, his overtunic draped over the back of his chair, and though he, Gandalf, and Master Oteriel seemed highly amused at the goings on, they didn’t censure anyone, nor did they leave, not even when Tauriel’s maids and my lads started a singing duel where first one side sang a line that the other had to rhyme. Some verses were almost filthy. I could have demonstrated what filthy poetry truly was, but the novelty of drunken Elves chanting even vaguely suggestive verses made me content to listen and laugh uproariously. What they lacked in obscenity, they made up for in clever word play. Of course, when they started to mix up their clever words, it was funny, and before long most of them were laughing so hard at themselves that the whole thing dissolved into ridiculousness.

The dancing started up again, and I got to hand a lot of pretty maids around. Eventually I made my way around the ring far enough to partner my wife, who was positively giddy. She’d stripped down to her undertunic, as had most of the maids, so our garden looked like a lad’s sweet dream full of the most beautiful creatures in the world. Elves didn’t sweat the way Dwarves did, but their color was rosy and their flying hair shone in the candlelight like watered silk. Even Arwen reeled around the garden in the same state of abandon. Tauriel caught my hand and twirled around me like a moth, a glass of wine in her hand.

“ _A’maelamin_!” she greeted me, stopping in the dance to kiss me. Around us, folk lurched around her until she got herself back in the pattern. “You haven’t lost your coat, have you? You look like a corsair.”

I’d long since stripped off my wedding finery, and was down to the thin undertunic I’d worn under my coat and tunic. If this had been a Dwarvish feast, the undertunic would have gone long ago, too, but none of the other lads had gotten that far yet, so I didn’t indulge. Still, I’d rolled up the sleeves past my elbows, and the neck was unlaced down past my sternum. With my ringed ears, I probably did look like a sea rat. “You look like you’re having a wonderful time, too, _amrâlimê_.”

“I am! I never enjoyed myself at any Woodland Realm festival nearly so much as I have at this one. This one is wonderful!”

I giggled at how much wine Tauriel must have drunk to be so giddy. I’d had a single glass of it, realized how potent it was, and had stuck to ale since. The novelty of drunken Elves was too good to waste with my own drunkenness... though I was certainly well watered. “I’m sure Rivendell hasn’t seen anything like this in a while.”

“Oh! There was one more thing I was supposed to do,” she frowned, concentrating. She downed the last of her wine, and I had to grab the glass before it slipped out of her hands. Given that it was one of our nice ones that matched the vined crockery Tauriel liked so much, I didn’t want it to break. She followed me as I went into the kitchen to put the glass out of harm’s way. A couple of Elves were there, upright and speaking quietly, but to hear them try to sort out what an egg whisk was for was to know they were as drunk as everyone else.

“What one more thing were you supposed to do, _amrâlimê_?” I grinned, leading Tauriel back to the garden.

“I just thought of it, but I’ve forgotten again... wait... oh, yes! I have to find Giriel!” She looked at the dancing crowd. “Giriel? Giriel! Where are you?”

The maid wormed through the dancers, flushed and panting. The dance in full sway was a vigorous one, and she had to hitch up the shoulder of her undertunic. “Tauriel? Is it time?”

“Time. It is,” Tauriel nodded emphatically. “It is time. Now.”

Giriel whooped like we did on the practice fields, and other whoops went up in answer. “Orc Spawn! It’s time!”

“Time for what – oh, Valar!”

I found myself seized by our comrades, who hoisted me aloft and swept out the front door – I barely kept my head from banging on the lintel – and down the street in full voice. The entire party streamed after us; I got a disjointed view of a pair of lads carrying Tauriel on their shoulders in the midst of the throng, with the three supposedly responsible parties – Gandalf, Lord Elrond, and Oteriel – bringing up the rear. A mad song went up, and for the first time I heard Elves sing a truly filthy song, though it was in the Common Tongue rather than Quenya, and garbled to boot, but I knew it, and sang along as best I could through all the jostling. They’d done three verses before I realized where they were headed, but by then it was too late to free myself. They held me tightly by the arms and legs to swing me back and forth. On the count of three, with a great cheer, my mates heaved me into the air, and sent me flying into the deepest part of the same fountain where I’d cavorted naked with my fellow Dwarves.

I was never going to live this down. But then, maybe I didn’t want to.

I surfaced and got myself to the side of the basin in time to see Tauriel come flying in after me. I ducked to avoid her flailing arms and legs, then watched her surface. She gasped for breath and floundered towards me, going under in the process. Oh, Valar, she didn’t know how to swim! I ducked under, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to me, draping her arms over the edge of the basin. I thumped her back to help her cough the water out, while around us, more bodies jumped, fell, ran, and careened into the water around us.

Were these Elves? Rivendell Elves?

Before I could tease Tauriel about not being able to swim, a fiery streak shot up towards the stars. A moment later, a huge blossom of blue and green fire exploded across the sky, glowing and twinkling brighter than the fullest moon and all the stars. Tauriel gasped, the fountain forgotten as she gazed up at Gandalf’s magic. Another bloom of pink and yellow followed, then a glowing white pinwheel whirled crazily from one end of the sky to another. The next one whistled like a mad piper, and then it turned into the outline of the piper followed by a lot of squeaking mice. A pair of prancing ponies turned flips and disappeared into the sky. A cloud of tiny pinwheels careened among the revelers, then a swarm of butterflies landed on all the maids’ heads for a few moments, only to dissolve into sparkles. More blossoms, fountains, and sparkles followed. The finale was a pair of white doves that chased each other over the sky, then dissolved into runes that spelled Tauriel’s name and mine. As the last glow faded, everyone cheered and clapped in appreciation.

I got myself out of the basin, and lifted Tauriel up until she sat on the edge. She clambered out the rest of the way herself, and stood up. She was steady, but I decided that was only because it was so hard to tell when an Elf was drunk.

“How did we get so wet, _a’maelamin_?”

Oh and oh, she was very drunk, no matter how steady she was. I grinned, took her arm, and guided her away from the fountain. “Our friends threw us in the fountain, _amrâlimê_.”

“Oh, yes. That’s right. I told them it wouldn’t be a proper feast unless they threw you into the fountain. I’m glad they did.”

“They threw you in, too. They didn’t know you didn’t know how to swim.”

She shook her head definitely. “I swam well enough to get out.”

I laughed. “So you did. Come on, let’s thank Gandalf for the fireworks.”

“They were wonderful! Flowers of fire. So beautiful!” She skipped where I led her, which was to Gandalf laughing at the antics of our mates, who were still cavorting in the fountain.

“The fireworks were grand,” I put my hand over my heart and bowed to the wizard. “The perfect way to end the night.”

“They were,” Tauriel nodded, and leaned close enough to brush a kiss on Gandalf’s cheek that mostly hit its mark.

“You are most welcome. I hoped you liked the runes at the end.”

“Very much. In Dwarvish as well as Elvish. Perfectly spelled, too,” I assured him.

“I liked the flowers, too,” Tauriel added. “They smelled just like the real blossoms.”

“You noticed!” Gandalf was inordinately pleased. “Thank you!”

“I didn’t plan the bit about the fountain this time,” I told Lord Elrond, who regarded his reveling citizens with incredulity. I pointed to Tauriel. “She did, and so did a lot of your Elves. I just got dunked, I want the record to say.”

“Duly noted, Master Dwarf,” Lord Elrond conceded, shaking his head.

“I thank you. Now, I’ll leave this lot to you. It’s time I got my wife home. She’s had a lot of wine.”

“I certainly have,” Tauriel agreed. “But how did I get so wet?”

I smothered a laugh. “You’ll remember tomorrow, _amrâlimê_. Let’s go home.”

I left the fountain to the cavorting Elves, and steered my wife – my wife! – home slowly. We ran into a few scattered revelers on the way, but not many. Our front door was wide open, but the house was mostly quiet. I sat Tauriel down on the garden settee, then made the rounds. The two Elves in the kitchen still debated the uses of the egg whisk, but I shooed them out gently with a pointer to the fountain where they’d find their mates. Another trio were intent on the ale barrel, of all things, having a disjointed discussion comparing the merits of ale to those of wine, but I sent them after their mates with another pointer to the fountain. The last reveler was in the bathing chamber, in the tub with all his clothes on, but I hauled him out and sent him on his way. I closed the door –

No, one more Elf was in the garden, casually plucking the harp strings. I got him on his feet and out the door. When he’d padded down the darkened street, I blew out the lamps by the front door and shut the door behind him.

“I liked the harp playing,” Tauriel murmured. “I’m sorry you sent him away.”

“We’ll ask him back soon, _amrâlimê_. Come on, let’s dry off and settle for the night.”

I steered us through the cluttered house – no cream cakes, but a lot of cheese bits in the sitting room suggested something had had been up – and detoured through the dining room. Unbelievably, not much of the food remained. I snared a last cake or two, then got us into the bathing chamber. The water was clean enough, despite the previous occupant, so I stripped us to our skins and sponged off the night’s rigors. Tauriel roused enough to dry off and slip on her robe. I made do with a towel around my waist and followed Tauriel into our bedroom –

“Who is that?” Tauriel asked curiously, pointing to the Elf sitting on the floor with his back against the foot of our bed. He seemed quite happy to stare at his bare feet.

“Oh, Valar, that’s Rhiannel,” I sighed. “I’ll see him out. Come on, Rhiannel. The party’s moved over at the fountain now. All our mates are there. Come on...”

I got Rhiannel out of the house, pointed him on his way, and shut the front door again. I did one more circuit of the house, even the empty storerooms, to make sure everyone was gone. When I got back to the bedroom, Tauriel was lying down.

“I’m very dizzy, Kili,” she complained.

I snickered as I lay down beside her. “I’m not surprised. You’ve had a lot of wine.”

“So have you.”

“Not me. I stuck to ale as soon as I figured out how hard that wine kicked.”

“But you had a lot of ale, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“Good,” Tauriel smiled. She was still halfway to the stars, but her expression was sweet. “I wanted you to have as raucous a wedding feast as possible, so you wouldn’t think you’d missed anything by having an Elvish celebration. So we had lots of ale, and swearing, and dancing, and cavorting in fountains, and fireworks.”

If it were possible to love Tauriel any more, knowing she’d done her best to incite a lot of Elves to reach the heights of Dwarvish excess would have done it. “It couldn’t have been better, Tauriel. I haven’t had so much fun in ages.”

“Now all you have to do is couple with your new wife. That’s the last part.”

“You’re very drunk, Tauriel. I want you to enjoy coupling with your new husband.”

Her eyes opened. They were a lot more lucid than I expected, and she rolled over on top of me. Her open robe slid off her shoulders, and she shrugged it the rest of the way off. She kissed me slowly, and before I even thought about it, I was ready for her. She gloved me, and with a wicked smile she did that tightening thing that I had no defense against, no matter how much ale I’d had. In three minutes, she had me, and herself after.

“I did enjoy that. Very much. But I think I’d better lie down for a little while before I do that again. I’m still very dizzy.”

Laughing, I laid her head on my shoulder, and drew her arm across my ribs. I shut my eyes, happy to fall asleep beside a very drunk Elf maid.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Here's one last dose of sweetness, then it's on to the Orcs. It's all the explicitly good clean fun our favorite married couple missed last night when someone got the idea to throw them in a fountain. Hope you enjoy it!

_Krugnash watched Snaga ram the hilt of his scimitar against the mongrel Warg’s skull, slowing it just enough for the Mirkwood Orc to seize the beast’s mane and drag himself astride. The Warg was tired, for Krugnash had driven her and the rest of her scurvy pack west for two days to get them within reach of the Mirkwood Orc, so Snaga had little trouble overhauling the beast. She snapped at Snaga’s legs, but with another few blows she subsided into submission, and loped off carrying her rider north past the cursed valley of the Elves._

_The big Gundebad Orc followed more leisurely on his Warg, satisfied that the skulker ahead of him would reach the rest of his maggot-ridden tribe before dawn. It would have given him great pleasure kill Snaga and take after the malformed Dwarf himself. But the battle of the Dragon’s Mount had savaged the Gundebad troops, and the remaining elite bodyguards who’d served Bolg and Azog were needed to gather their scattered forces. The sole reason that Krugnash was not among them was because he’d seen the Dwarf who’d helped to bring Bolg to his death. Krugnash would use Snaga’s tribe to bring him to ground, then take him in hand. If he were the one who’d fought Bolg, Krugnash would bear him to Gundebad. If he weren’t, then only his head would make the trip._

_Either way, Krugnash intended to put Snaga under his blade. The Mirkwood Orc was a bumbler, and had taken far longer to reach the northern reaches of the Elves’ valley than Krugnash had hoped._

_The bigger pleasure would be to deliver the Dwarf to his master. He was said to be the surviving Heir of Durin, the Dwarvish line Azog had sworn to destroy. The diggers of earth had beaten the Gundebad Orcs back from the Dragon’s Mount, and put fully three-quarters of them to the sword. Those who remained didn’t have the forces to unseat the Dwarves. But with the Heir in their hands, they had the means and the will to poison the Dwarves’ victory with bitterness, horror, and lamentation._

_Eager to smell the stench of Dwarvish agony again, Krugnash smiled, and nudged his Warg forward into the night. He knew where Snaga’s tribe lay, and how far they’d travel in the next day or two as they sought their quarry. He would wait patiently for them to do so_

 

* * *

 

I woke late. I hadn’t slept much two nights ago, what with anticipating Tauriel’s and my wedding, and last night’s revelry had worn me out, so the sun was close to noon when I finally roused. This was not a surprise, but finding Tauriel still lying beside me was.

“Good morning, husband,” she greeted quietly.

I raised my head to look at her. “ _Amrâlimê_? What’re you doing here? I thought Elves didn’t sleep. Not that I mind to wake up beside you, not at all.”

She rolled over, pillowing her head on her arm to look at me. “I was dizzy for a long time last night, _a’maelamin_. I must have drunk a very great deal of wine at our celebration.”

Snickering, I rolled over to kiss her. “You did, my sweet wife. How much of last night do you remember?”

“I remember all of it,” she protested mildly. She frowned. “I think I do. Let’s see – there was singing and dancing and a lot of food and wine, then you and I had our ceremony, and...” she reached up to touch her ear lobe, “yes, we put on our rings. Gandalf and Lord Elrond witnessed. They even blessed us, too. That was wonderful. Then we had a lot more singing and dancing, and more food, and more wine. It got so hot that folk took off a lot of their clothes, which did make the dancing much cooler.” She eyed me doubtfully. “You looked like a corsair, as I remember.”

I smothered laughter at Tauriel’s recitation. “It was the rings in my ears.”

Her touch on one of my rings was gentle. She laughed suddenly, then as quickly smothered it.

“What?” I asked, grinning. “What about the rings in my ears?”

“It wasn’t the rings,” she shook her head. She blushed furiously. “I think I said something very rude to some of the maids. Some of the Orc Spawn, too.”

“Did you?” I was having a hard time controlling my laughter.

She nodded again. “Yes, I’m sure I did.”

“What did you say?”

She tightened her lips, but maybe a bit of humor tempered her embarrassment. “Giriel started it. Yes, that’s right; she had even more wine than I did, and it put her in a raucous mood. Rhiannel got into the same mood, and then the rest of your Orc Spawn joined in to tease me about a marriage night with a husband who was a foot shorter than I was. I think I told them that not all of you was short. They thought that was very funny, so I probably did say it. I don’t think I should have.”

I gave up, and laughed for all I was worth. My serious warrior maid had finally learned to engage in a little bawdy talk, and it was endearing. “Oh, Tauriel... you are a constant surprise.”

“A rude one, it seems.”

I stroked her cheek. “You could’ve said much worse. I thank you for speaking well of me.”

She hummed with ambivalence, but seemed happy that I’d reacted with a laugh. “After that, let’s see... someone started the rhyming game, and then we set off for the fountain. Oh, that’s right, I got thrown in after you because no one knew I didn’t know how to swim, but you pulled me out, then we had the fireworks, and then we came home. Wasn’t there an Elf in the bath?”

“There were Elves all over the house, as thick as bugs. But I chased them all out so we could go to bed.”

She nodded, remembering. Her eyes slid to mine. “We coupled, too.”

I nodded. “We did, but just the once. We were both too drunk for more.”

She hummed again, admitting the truth of that. “At least we managed the once. It was our wedding night, after all.”

I kissed her nose. “We saw to the basics, yes. If you like, I’ll offer you a more thorough exploration of what should happen in a marriage bed tonight, once we’re over the wine and ale and rampant revelry.”

She smiled in anticipation and stroked my chest. “Oh, is this another Dwarvish ceremony?”

“No ceremony. A delightful tradition for the wife, though. But I don’t know if it applies in our case.”

“Why not?”

“The tradition is twofold. The first part is to assure a wife that her husband is well able to see to her delight.”

Tauriel perked up, looking more alert than she had since the revelry started. “I don’t see how that wouldn’t apply, Kili. That’s something that I will never know too well to forgo, so I am quite ready to help you fulfill that part of your tradition.”

“It’s the second part that doesn’t apply, _amrâlimê_. There are things a husband does to encourage the making of a child.”

“And I already bear ours.” Tauriel hummed. Her gaze met mine. “And what does this entail?”

“A great deal of endurance on my part.”

Her grin matched mine. “Hmm. Perhaps we should engage in this tradition, anyway. So that we are well practiced to make our second child.”

I touched my forehead to hers, laughing. “Good idea. But I’d like breakfast first. Or luncheon, given how late it is.”

Her smile waxed into a grin. “Of course. We can clear the remnants of the party this afternoon, and have a good supper afterwards. Then we will have candlelight and the summer stars when we witness tradition.”

“I’d like that, too.”

We hugged, not enough to entice us into more, and got up. I found smalls and trews and a thin undertunic, but left off my boots. It was already warm, and my hair was rumpled from its dunk in the fountain last night, so I pulled it into two loose braids to get it off my neck. Tauriel made do with light leggings and a sleeveless tunic, and pinned her hair atop her head. We padded to the kitchen, sidestepping the remnants of last night’s feasting. Of course, everything was a mess, not just the floors, but given that I’d gotten to see High Elves act as crazily as spring hares, I considered the mess fair payment. The dining room was worst, and the garden was fairly pillaged as well. Tauriel found a few eggs and some rolls for toast, I scavenged salted pork from the larder and a fair number of pastries from the dining room, and we had green leaves and tea, so we had a reasonable meal in the midst of the disarray.

Afterwards, Tauriel fetched her biggest gleaning basket from the storeroom. We piled it full of discarded clothing and set it out on the front steps of our house, in case our friends drifted by to reclaim their things. We also closed the front door firmly to discourage visitors. We’d had our public revel last night, and today we looked forward to solitude, even if it included cleaning.

It took time to pile up all the dishes, sweep out the crumbs, and stack the donated cushions and stools beside the basket of clothing on the front porch. The larder was reduced to its normal level of provision. We cleared the fountain of flower petals and lettuce leaves, then planted all of the gift plants in the empty borders, and watered them thoroughly before they faded. By then, I was ready to retreat from the hot sun, so stripped off my shirt to tackle the mountain of dishes while Tauriel set our rooms to order. It was cooler in the shaded kitchen than the sunny garden, so scrubbing and rinsing wasn’t the chore it could have been. In time, I washed the last goblet and put it on the kitchen table with the rest drying on towels as Tauriel came in with a dirty plate.

“One more,” she said, holding up the plate.

I took it from her and dunked it in the basin. “Where was this one? I thought I cleared the dining room.”

“You did. This one was in the sitting room.”

“I thought I cleared the sitting room, too.”

“It was under a chair, against the wall. How it got there, I’ve no idea.”

I snorted as I washed it clean and handed it to Tauriel, who’d started wiping the glasses. “We’d better count everything to see if we’ve gotten them all. Otherwise, it’ll be weeks before we stop finding bits and bobs here and there.”

“So far, the best one is the glass I found by the linen press, in the basket of towels, nestled carefully in a sandal. Where the other sandal is, I cannot fathom.”

I snorted again. “I had no idea Elves were able to unbend so much. Here I thought you were all so controlled and sedate, only to find out that you get drunk just like the other races. When you do, mayhem ensues – my wife comments about her husband’s bits to her friends, her friends sing dirty songs about the familiarity of Dwarves with farm animals, and my friends take their clothes off and throw themselves in fountains. I wonder how many of them are still in bed?”

Tauriel laughed. “Most, I’d think. Oteriel was smart. He assigned only senior guardsmen to duty today. He knew what would happen last night.”

I took up a towel and helped Tauriel finish the wiping, and we carried the clean goblets into the dining room. “I’m glad Master Oteriel and Lord Elrond were here last night. They witnessed more than our wedding – they witnessed the mayhem afterwards, so I won’t get the blame for starting it all.”

Tauriel laughed to herself, but gave me a knowing glance. “You wouldn’t have cared if you did get the blame, Kili.”

“True. But I like cohorts in mischief. That way, I don’t always have to be the one who comes up with the next outrage. Speaking of outrage...”

Tauriel met my pointed gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Which one in particular?”

“That Dwarvish song. Who came up with that?”

She giggled. “I asked if anyone knew any Dwarvish songs. Rhiannel knew someone who knew someone else who knew some of the Dwarvish traders who provide the blade steel to the forges. So we made further inquiries, and someone along the way got us the tune and the words. Then we passed them around so we could sing it last night. I hope you liked it.”

“It was much cleaner than the original _Khazuduhl_ , but the thought was sweet.”

“Oh? What is the original song about?”

“Nothing I can ever tell my wife, _amrâlimê_. It’s terribly fowl. Something about chickens and lonely Dwarf lads.”

“Foul... fowl... oh, Kili, you tell the worst jokes! Just for that, I’m going to have supper, and dirty one of the dishes you just rinsed.”

“That’s an Elf for you,” I teased, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl and taking a big bite. “Always proper, using dishes where none is needed. Here.”

She took a bite out of my proffered apple, and I left it with her as I headed back into the larder with an empty bowl –

There was a knock at the front door.

“Oh, bugger that,” I exhaled, meeting Tauriel’s eyes. “Maybe they’ll go away if we don’t answer.”

Another knock ended that hope.

“We’ll be all evening dealing with whoever that is if we open the door,” I grumbled.

The third knock was adamant, and shouting accompanied it.

Tauriel’s face cleared. “Oh, Valar, I think that’s Mithrandir!”

She hurried to the door, me coming after as I pulled on my shirt. She flung open the door, and sure enough, there stood the wizard in the fading sunlight, his staff in one hand and the other on his hip.

“Gandalf!” I exclaimed. “We’re sorry. We’ve been avoiding a lot of hung-over Elves...” I scanned the pile of cushions and clothes, which was substantially less than it had been at noon. “They seem to have come and gone without knocking, bless them. Come in, and welcome.”

“We were just about to make supper,” Tauriel added. “Please, have some with us.”

“Understandable. And yes, I would enjoy supper.” Mollified, the wizard came inside and leaned his staff by the door. His lips curled in a perverse smile. “It was quite a merry gathering last night.”

I snickered. “Very enlightening for a Dwarf. I never expected a lot of High Elves to stoop so low as to revel with almost as much abandon as a Dwarf. I hope Lord Elrond enjoyed himself.”

“Indeed,” Gandalf chuckled softly as we led the way into the kitchen. “It was good for Lord Elrond to see his folk enjoy themselves so thoroughly. He has not beheld such a spectacle for an age.”

I passed the wizard a tray of plates and glasses, then took up another with leftover party fare. “The dining room’s shoveled out and scrubbed, and it’ll be cooler there than in the garden. Wine, or ale?”

“I think one last deep draught of Imladris’ good water would suit,” he decided. “I’m on my way tomorrow morning. I wanted a private word with you both before I left.”

Tauriel brought the water pitcher, the salad, and the last of the pickled eggs. “You were here just a brief time, Mithrandir. I’d hoped you’d be here longer, so Kili and I could offer you a proper dinner, like we had with Bilbo the night before you left for the Shire.”

“It’s time I was off,” Gandalf held up a resolute hand. “I want another word with Radagast, and I want another look here and there, as well.”

“A wizard is always busy,” Tauriel observed with a fond look at Gandalf. “You look out for the happiest of Dwarves and Elves, the High Lord of Imladris, and everyone in between.”

Gandalf was pleased enough at my wife’s sentiment to salute her with his glass. We shared out the food and drink, chatting about last night’s revels, the craft of fireworks, and Radagast, whom Tauriel had not met. She would have liked to see the brown wizard’s Rhoscobel hares and the sled they drew. When we’d eaten the last cake, Gandalf leaned forward to eye us with his deep eyes.

“Now, I want a word about these lessons you give to the Elves.”

“Oh, you mean Kili’s mayhem classes?” Tauriel spoofed.

“And Tauriel’s subversion school?” I spoofed back.

“Yes, both of them.” Gandalf smiled, but his mien was more serious now. “This mayhem... it is important that you do not incite Imladris to random acts of silliness, Kili. You and Tauriel learned at Erebor how formidable the Orcs of Gundebad are, and how terribly difficult it is to defeat them. That is what you must impress upon the Elves – to use whatever means, even unconventional ones.”

Tauriel and I locked eyes. Fighting Bolg was still not something either of us could talk about.

“I know how desperate that fight was,” Gandalf said gently, “and how much worse it could have gone, no matter your skill or resolve. The Elves do not understand the terrible straits both of you endured to survive your encounter with Bolg, nor the high cost to your family, Kili. They take too much solace in the life promised to them across the sea, and do not engage in their life here as they should. You both hold on to this life so strongly. It is that I want you to teach them. Give them a reason to hold on here, until there is no other way.”

Looking at Tauriel, he took her hand. “You, my dear, spent many a cold year watching and waiting without hope of anything else. Yet here you are, with your merry Dwarf and a coming child in a fair city, because when hope presented itself, you leaped over the abyss after it. That lesson will not be lost on your maids. Nor will your skills in the trees with bow and knife and sword.

“If either of you can bring yourself to speak of Erebor, do so, but only to impress whoever listens what a savage fight it was against an implacable enemy.”

“I still can’t bear to think of it, never mind speak of it.” Tauriel glanced at me with stricken eyes, but it wasn’t our dining room she saw; it was me bent over Bolg’s thigh, his hand on my throat and his sword over my heart.

I had my own nightmare to recall – that moment when Tauriel had hurtled over the side of a broken Ravenhill platform, carrying Bolg with her as well as my soul, because I’d thought she’d die on the rocks below. “If I can, I will. But not as a prince of the House of Durin. Just as a Dwarf who lost kin at Erebor. I won’t be heir to a throne.”

 “You are better here,” Gandalf agreed, which salved some of my conscience, but not all of it. I still hated the thought of _Maamr_ mourning. In some way, I would find a way to make amends for that. “And you are right to hold silence about the House of Durin. I trust the Orcs have not forgotten who slew their leaders.”

Gandalf reached across the table to take both of our hands, squeezing them firmly. “Now, it’s time I was off, for I want to make an early start tomorrow. I thank you for the most excellent supper. Look after each other as well as you can. Expect me after your child is born, for I do enjoy a good party.”

Tauriel’s tight posture eased, and she smiled readily. “We will have one in your honor, Mithrandir. Though I think we will dispense with throwing anyone in a fountain.”

“Especially the bairn,” I agreed.

Gandalf’s laugh was rich as we walked him to the front door. He accepted Tauriel’s affectionate hug, and my clasp of his hand in both of mine, and took up his staff.

“Good-bye,” he said, as we stepped into the street with him.

“Safe journey tomorrow, Gandalf.”

“All speed, Mithrandir.”

He waved, and took himself off.

When he was out of sight, Tauriel hurried me inside and shut the door. Then she hustled us into the kitchen and started piling things in the washbasin. “Why the rush to rinse the dishes, _amrâlimê_?” I teased, hugging her around the waist.

She looked over her shoulder at me. “We were garden drudges and kitchen sculleries all afternoon, and I am ready to be done with both. I am going to indulge in a cool bath, and properly wash my hair. After that, I will ask you to help me redo my braids. Then I will light candles, and take you to bed where you can show me this delightful tradition you promised.”

I found a clean towel. “You rinse. I’ll wipe. Then I’ll race you to the bath.”

“Done.”

Before long, the house was clean and quiet, and candles flickered in our bath and bedroom. We had the wash that Tauriel craved, and we dressed each other’s hair while sitting in the cool water. The marriage rings in Tauriel’s ears sparkled in the warm light, lending her an exotic glamor, as if her ruby hair and emerald eyes weren’t striking enough. I touched one of them gently, setting it in motion.

“I like them.” She shook her head, twitching them both. “They make me feel exotic.”

“You are exotic, _amrâlimê_. Oh, those Rivendell Elf maids are pretty enough, especially when they’re dancing around our fountain half naked. But a red-haired Nandor Elf in my bath, completely naked but for the exotic silver rings in her shapely ears, is entrancing.”

Tauriel stroked my cheeks, her little fingers caressing my rings. “I quite like a daring Dwarvish corsair in my bath, too. I’m tempted to take him to bed.”

I leaned over to kiss her, then took her hand to help her out of the water. “Let me dry you off, so you have no reason not to take me to bed.”

I took up a towel to dry my wife, rubbing a bit harder over her nipples to tease her. Of course, Tauriel was not the maid to let that go unanswered, so she soon had me purring as she rubbed my mane. We took our time, and when we both were dry, she led me into our bedroom.

“Now, about this delightful tradition.” Tauriel sat on the bed and drew me close to run her fingers over my chest.

I touched her lips with my finger, rubbing them gently. “Well, we can skip the first part, where you’d be in all those layers of clothes, and so would I. Too hot for that part. And we can skip the second part where I have to stoke up the fire to make sure you’re warm enough. The Blue Mountains are cold a lot of the time, you see, and it’s traditional that the marriage chamber has to be blazing hot...”

Tauriel leaned back on her elbows to regard me with exasperation. “I hope we can skip the part where the Dwarf maid falls asleep while her husband explains all these parts to her.”

“Oh, we can skip that part, too, because you’re not a Dwarf maid, but an Elf maid who doesn’t sleep, so you’ll be awake for all of the explaining –”

Tauriel laid herself down with her head on the pillow and closed her eyes. “I’ve been practicing. I think I can fall asleep if you keep droning on about clothing and fires and traditions.”

I sighed. “Well, that’s it, then. I suppose I’ll have to skip to the next part.”

She opened one eye. “What is the next part? An invitation to the watcher at the door to come inside to get warm and hear the explaining? I hope we can we skip that part, too.”

I sat down beside her, and stroked her arm gently, then her shoulder. I traced a single finger across her collarbone. “No, _amrâlimê_. The next part is where I show you how much I love you. I’d rather not skip that part, but if you’d rather I did, I can.”

Smiling, she gently tugged my _amrâlimê_ braid. “No, I’d rather you show me that part. If you want to.”

“I do. There are three parts to this part, both to delight you as well as to make the child.”

Tauriel considered. “It sounds... thorough.”

I nodded. “It’s said that a maid has a fiercer spirit than a lad. To prove his worth, a husband must take his wife over the moon in three ways. He forestalls his pleasure until the third time, when her spirit is ready to rest and his is still strong. Only then can his spirit join hers to make the child.”

I’d been stroking and caressing while I spoke softly, and already Tauriel was starting to rise. I lay on my side, close enough to kiss her cheek, her ear, the corner of her eye, and to stroke her long, elegant body. I nuzzled her neck, and she rolled to her side to play with my hair and mane while she kissed me in the candlelight. But soon enough I urged her onto her back to stroke her ribs, abdomen, hips, thighs, and finally her sex. My fingers slipped into her folds to find the most sensitive points, but Tauriel wasn’t content merely to accept my offerings. She opened for me, and put her hand atop mine to guide it. When I nuzzled her breasts, her back arched, and her eyes closed. I knelt between her legs to stroke her, doing my best not to plunge my cock inside her as it so badly wanted, or to revel so much at her pleasure to come just by watching her. As if she knew my urgency, Tauriel rose all at once for both of us, calling my name at the peak of her climax.

I lay beside her as she calmed. My skin always tingled after rising, sensitive even to the lightest breeze, and it felt good when Tauriel stroked me with light, slow fingers, somehow slowing the ebb of my pleasure with her touch. I did that for her now, soothing and calming, readying her for her second journey over the moon.

I had never done this second rising before. Fili had described it well enough, bless him, but Tauriel and I had been too busy enjoying ourselves in other ways that I’d not yet ventured here. But much of what he’d told me made sense now, because I knew how sensitive a maid was after rising. So I eased her knees apart, crouched over her, and kissed her breasts softly. Her hands slipped through my hair to caress my mane, and I let myself revel in that for a few moments before I slid down to kiss her ribs, her navel, her abdomen, the points of her hips. Then I kissed the top of her mound, and slid my tongue down further, searching for that most sensitive of spots. Would she let me find it?

Her hands clutched in my hair, and her body tensed, but she didn’t tell me to stop. So I explored gently, careful not to rasp my scruff of a beard over her. She seemed to like a little friction, though, so I let her reactions guide me on where and how to caress her. She had the faintest blush of delicate red hair between her legs, as soft as a leaf of velvet lamb’s ear, and I rubbed my cheek against it. She liked that, so I caressed her slowly, kissing and nuzzling and probing with my tongue. I let my fingers drift inside her, just the merest suggestion, but she took it as much more than a suggestion, and rose before I knew it. When I licked her node rapidly, she sailed high.

While she still flew, I eased my cock inside her, and now came the truth behind what Fili had told me. The endurance he’d spoken of wasn’t needed to last the length of time we coupled; no, it was to resist the most primal of urges to bury myself deep within Tauriel’s soft, warm, liquid core and hack away like a beast. Oh, Valar, how desperately I wanted that release, or even to move gently, but a true husband would not use his wife so badly when she was so tender. He would let her calm as she held him, reminding her that yet more pleasure was hers, but only when she was ready. How ignorant I’d been to tell Tauriel the first time we’d indulged in our garden to savor being on the horns of the moon. I’d had no idea just how exquisite a torture that was. I had full measure of it now, so primed to plumb her to her depths, but determined not to hurt her.

I curled around Tauriel, my head on her breast, her hands tangled in my hair. She was the one on her back, but I was the one who was snared. I stopped breathing, for even the rise and fall of my ribs increased the sensations that tantalized me. When she shifted, I gasped, sure I wouldn’t be able to keep still.

“Don’t – don’t move, Tauriel, I beg of you. I’m so –”

“Trapped on the horns of the moon, _amrâlimê_?”

Tauriel had never used the _Khazuduhl_ endearment before, only the Elvish one, but the amusement in her voice was pure Dwarf. “Oh, Valar, Tauriel, I’m supposed to trap you on the horns, not myself!”

“I’m nearly there, Kili. Here, sit up a bit, and put your hand here...”

I sat up, still within her, drawing my knees up under her legs. She put my hand over her sex, rubbing my thumb over her node, and I had to shut my eyes to concentrate on what I did rather than what I felt. The soft bud under my thumb swelled, and Tauriel stretched herself wide. When her breath caught, her legs wound around me and she pulled me down against her.

“Now, Kili. Now!”

I let myself go, plunging deeply into her. As her fingers knotted in my hair, her legs bound around me, and her body bucked hard against mine in time to my thrusts. Oh and oh and oh, such intense pleasure after such enforced restraint set me alight more fiercely than anything ever had. When Tauriel rose, I jumped into her flames without thought of anything but immolation, flinging both of us over the moon as fiercely as eagles on a mating flight.

Tauriel held me tightly as the surge crested and fell. As it ebbed, she rubbed my back with the lightest of fingertips, then smoothed my hair back over my shoulders. I stayed inside her until the last moment, unwilling to end such closeness. Tauriel didn’t want this to end, either, for her legs remained clasped around me, and she kept stroking my hair. But in time, she found my hand and lifted it to her lips to kiss my marriage ring.

“Oh, Valar,” she sighed, clasping my hand. When she kissed it again, I looked up, though I expect that my eyes were glazed. “You have the fiercest spirit in all of Middle Earth.”

“ _You_ do,” I panted, smiling. I rested my head on her breasts for another moment before rolling over to lie flat beside her. “You nearly had me.”

She grinned as she stretched luxuriously. “Nearly? We had each other most thoroughly, I’d say. If this is what it’s like to marry, I’m sorry we didn’t think of it two months ago.”

“I wanted to make sure I deserved to be your husband. The box and so forth.”

She put her head on my chest. “You are the most deserving of husbands, Kili. I couldn’t be happier. I hope you are as happy with me.”

I started to laugh. “Valar, maid. Do you want to kill me? If I were any happier, I’d die of ecstasy.”

Her laughter joined mine. “I would, too. Right now, though, I’m dying of heat. I think I need another bath.”

I stretched, too. “So do I. Come on.”

The cool bath was sublime balm after our heat, and we nestled together, eyes closed, just floating. I was spent, almost asleep as Tauriel cradled me against her chest. In a few moments, we rose to dry off again, and I lay down again much refreshed. As was her habit, Tauriel lay down to be with me until I fell asleep. Her hand snuck out to touch my fingertips.

“ _Amrâlimê_ ,” she whispered.

Nearly asleep, I smiled as I clasped her hand in mine. “ _A’maelamin_.”

I drifted off, husband in name as well as deed to a fierce Elf maid, father to be, in love and beloved. I would never lack, because the riches in my small house exceeded all the gold in Erebor.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. The Orcs have arrived! Hope you enjoy their appearance more than the Elves do. Never fear, the skirmish is just starting, and more will soon follow.

_Krugnash paused outside the ring of firelight as Snaga whined to the head of his tribe about the charge Gundebad had put on them._

_“You think we’ll do Gundebad’s dirty work, you scum?” the captain jibed his underling. “The creature you saw is just a Dwarf, not a crossbreed, so we face no danger from an unexpected alliance of Dwarves and Elves. I don’t care who that Dwarf is – we’ve got enough of our own problems to skulk after anything the Gundebad carrion want. They got themselves well basted at the Dragon’s Mount, and they won’t be coming here to tell us what to do!”_

_Krugnash kneed his Warg, and the beast leaped into the midst of Snaga’s tribe. He took off the captain’s head in a single sweep of his scimitar before any of them had fully registered his presence. From his seat on his Warg, he towered over the smaller, unmounted Mirkwood Orcs._

_“You_ will _do what Gundebad says, or end up like your bastard captain,” Krugnash snarled, pointing his scimitar at each of the Orcs in turn. His Warg crouched, growling at the stench of frightened Orcs cowering in the face of his beast. Beyond them, their beasts crouched just as low, their snouts nearly in the dirt._

_Snaga dared to sidle a step closer and sketched a cringing bow. “What would you have us do, lord?”_

* * *

 

The stars faded from the sky over our garden, and dawn warmed the sky. I rested on the garden settee, still smiling over the night Kili and I had shared. It had been ripe and full with more than physical delight, spectacular though that had been – Kili’s tenderness had been just as entrancing as the pleasure he had given me. I knew how important it had been to him to observe his folk’s tradition, perhaps even more than he did. He’d been ridiculed for so long about not being a proper Dwarf, yet here he was, married where so many of those who had ridiculed him were not. He’d proved to himself that he was fit by any standard his people held close. Yet even in holding himself to those standards, he had cared more about pleasing me with affection, care, and delicacy. How hard it had been for him to think of more than his own driving urgency, but he had done so. If it were possible, I loved him more than ever.

Inside, our child shifted. It was still quite small, but I was always aware of it now as a growing spark. It was still be some months before my bearing would be obvious, but I looked forward to that, so that Kili could marvel at our daring as often as I.

Both Kili and I returned to duty today. It would be our usual drill, then Kili would head to the forge while I led another of my maids’ class. I had decided not to hold today’s class in the arms hall, but to venture outside of the main city and into the forest. Yesterday, Mithrandir had said that my ability in the trees was an asset to pass on to my students, so it was time to begin that. A large part of the forest around the city lay under the magical boundaries Lord Elrond had set, so we would be protected against intruders to some extent. Still, I would show my maids how to set a perimeter watch before I climbed up into the trees.

This would be an education for me as well as my maids. The Imladris forests were different from Mirkwood, not so thick with dead trees and tangled undergrowth, and not infested with giant spiders. I would have to modify the way I moved through the tree canopy, and would not have the spider’s webs to help or hinder me. But I could speak of the differences to my maids, and teach them how to tell sound limbs from rotten ones, how to move silently above the ground, and how to appear invisible to those below. New physical skills, such as balance and climbing, would also be things to teach. I looked forward to this; I had not realized how much I missed being in the trees, even though I was so happy with my new life.

It wasn’t long before Kili woke and joined me in the garden for our first kiss of the day. His face was alive with his usual bright eyes and ready smile as we shared breakfast, dressed, and walked from our house to the arms hall. He enjoyed his guardsman duties, and also his time at the forge. Our friends had seen the level of his skills in our marriage jewelry, and I was proud that many had offered commissions for pieces of their own.

Kili also looked forward to forging a sword with the Imladris Elves for the first time. This was quite an honor; my _a’maelamin_ was an unknown outsider to the Elven smiths, but he had his people’s innate sense of metals, and he had been well trained. He had been well vetted, as well; while he’d been left largely undisturbed as he had worked on my box and our jewelry, he’d been keenly aware of the Elves’ surreptitious scrutiny as he’d worked. I was no expert in such things, but my box was exquisitely wrought. The iron tools he’d made for us and our comrades to deflect Orcish blades – they’d been dubbed blade biters – were also well done. He’d customized each one, whether runes or a figured pommel or other design, so that each one was distinct. His care and skill were evident even to the most hidebound of Elven smiths, so he’d been asked to take part in forging a fine blade.

“How long does it take to make a blade?” I asked.

“It varies, depending on the technique and the design,” Kili explained. “Even the most skilled bladesmith can’t do it alone. It takes a lot of folk, from beaters and heaters and shapers. I started out just pumping the bellows for Uncle Thorin. It takes even more folk, if you’re making your own stock from raw ore rather than using steel that’s already been mixed and rough-shaped. Just preparing the steel and shaping the blade takes time. Once you get the blade shaped, you have grinders, polishers, engravers, hilt makers, and any number of other special workers, depending on how fancy the design is.”

“Have they told you about the blade you’re to help them with?”

 “Not yet, not that it matters. I’m happy to be invited to learn everything they teach me. Once we start, I may be at the forge for a long stretch,” Kili warned as we neared the arms hall. “Metal doesn’t pause for luncheon. So I’ll be at there until it’s done.”

“I can bring you your smith’s luncheon if you like,” I offered. “I imagine that this is an arduous process, and you’ll need bites along the way.”

“I’ll take enough with me, _amrâlimê_ ,” he assured me. “I likely won’t have the wherewithal even to greet you if you came. When the steel calls, it’s the king and the smiths are its servant.”

“I understand. When will you start? Today?”

He shook his head. “I’m on patrol for the next day or two, given our time off for our ceremony. I expect the Elvish smiths will tell me when I’m to be there. Oteriel’s told me that when they call, I’m excused from patrol for the forging.”

“I can take patrol for you, if that would help,” I said.

Kili shook the hair out of his eyes to smile at me. He had this way of doing so with the softest and most beckoning of bright eyes... and how much mischief lurked in them! “You took others’ duties often in the Woodland Realm, didn’t you? That’s why I saw you pass my cell more often than any of the other Elves.”

“I did,” I confessed. “I did so frequently before you arrived, because I had little else to do, and preferred the quiet of the cell block to noisy gatherings.”

“Ah,” he nodded, still smiling. “And here I thought it was because you were intrigued by a dark Dwarf behind the cell door.”

I grinned. “As much as you were by an Elf maid beyond the cell door.”

He put his hand on his heart. “I still am.”

“And I. Come, enough mooning. Time for duty.”

He laughed as we entered the hall. We checked the duty roster, confirmed that we were both due for drill, and made our way towards our comrades already assembling for the same duty.

The morning passed pleasantly, first with the comfort of drill, always enjoyable for its physical exertion and mental honing. Afterwards, I reported to Oteriel for the day’s captains’ meeting, where I explained my plan for my maids’ class. Oteriel was interested in what I planned to teach, so I explained in detail. I was gratified that he wanted me to refine my plan with my maids so that we could expand it to more students if it went well. Afterwards, my maids and I saddled our horses to make the trip to the forest. As we rode out, we passed the outgoing patrol, Kili among them on Trellennan. He waved as they rode by. I waved back, and we followed the patrol for a bit as we headed to the forest. The patrol veered off towards the plains, leaving us to continue on.

The maids and I spent the afternoon in the trees closest to Imladris. I was right that this vale of trees was not so tangled and dim as Mirkwood, for it was vibrant with health. Some of the trees were immense. Their spreading, interlacing canopies would not have so many vines to help me travel, and balance would be much more important here. But travel was still possible.

This first lesson was basic – how to climb up to the canopy, how to walk the limbs, what was good wood and what was rotten. I explained flets, the Woodland Realm’s tree platforms that provided viewing posts and resting spots, and we planned to construct one in a later lesson. While my maids were not yet adept in the trees, they would improve rapidly with practice. Their sense of balance was wonderful, and some even dared easy jumps between trees. We set up a target on the ground to practice shooting from above, which all enjoyed. They were good archers already, so shooting accurately while balanced on a limb was not hard for most. The trick, however, was to learn how to move and shoot at the same time. I did a little of that, both to show how it was done, and to refamiliarize myself with something I used to do every day. It was hard to believe that it’d been five months since I’d last done so.

My maids enjoyed themselves so much that we didn’t return to the city until the sun was setting. They learned several things, one of which was that they needed boots with softer, more flexible soles that would give a better sense of the branches. Another was that shorter bows were easier to maneuver aloft. A third was that they should dress in colors that blended into the canopy. All in all, the lesson was a success, and my maids liked the chance to bring a new line of defense to our city. When we returned to the arms hall, Oteriel was waiting for us, and I was gratified that my maids excitedly relayed their impressions and suggestions to him without reservation. We would continue our lessons with Oteriel’s full backing.

Kili also had good news to report when I returned home for supper. He’d sketched several designs for the jewelry our friends had asked for, and the Elven smiths were nearly ready for the forging. Tomorrow he would ride out on patrol again, and he’d hold his class in mayhem, but the following day he’d start the long process with the other smiths. I would hold the next of my maids’ classes that day, so I decided to let it run later, so that the maids could see how the forest changed at night. Elves see quite well in starlight and moonlight, but judging distances changes, as does the way sound travels. So we would begin to learn how to compensate.

The next day passed quickly as Kili and I went about our duties, and we had many things to speak about during supper. Kili looked forward to working with the smiths tomorrow, as I did my class.

“There is only one regret to report,” I sighed as we enjoyed our cool bath. “Arwen is leaving for Lothlórien to spend time with her grandmother, the Lady Galadriel. I don’t expect her to return for some time, perhaps years.”

Kili had his head back against the rim of the basin and his eyes were shut, but he was quite awake, and so hummed in regret. “I will miss her. She is a gracious lady...” He smiled perversely. “And exceptionally beautiful when she dances, scantily clad, around a fountain at weddings.”

I laughed. “She was. So were all the other maids. And the scantily clad Elf males were just as festive.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad my wife enjoyed herself as much as I. We are bad influences, _amrâlimê_. So bad, in fact, that a few of our cohorts approached me today about taking over some of the vacant houses nearby.”

“I heard similar murmurings from some of the maids. Perhaps we will have neighbors before long.”

Kili stroked my thigh under the water. “As long as they don’t visit too late into the evening, or arrive too early in the morning, or have wild parties without inviting us.”

Chuckling, I pulled one of Kili’s braids gently. He opened his eyes, smiling, and drew me to him, settling me over his hips. He sighed in contentment as we joined.

“How is our child?”

“Growing well. I feel it within, even if I appear no different yet.”

He put his hand over my stomach. “I can’t tell. You’re sure our child is well?”

“Very well.”

“And you?”

“Also well.”

“Good.” He put his hands on my shoulders and drew me down for a slow kiss. “I never thought I’d be so happy, Tauriel. You changed everything.”

“By riding a dead spider down a hill?”

He grinned. “Just so.”

“You are perverse. Endearingly so.”

That warm light filled his eyes. “Anything to please you, _amrâlimê_.”

 

* * *

 

Kili went off to the forges early, eager to begin work with the Elven smiths. I sent a big basket of provisions with him that included his favorite treats as well as several things the other smiths would like so that he could share our bounty. I, too, was full of anticipation for the day. Drill and patrol went as expected, though I still found it hard not to revel as we rode the perimeter circuit in full regalia. I had Imladris livery now, not my Woodland Realm uniform, and while it was heavier and more encompassing than what I was used to, it fit beautifully and moved almost as easily as my skin. It was supple leather under shining silver steel, and I had become vain enough to think that it complemented the silver rings in my ears quite well. On my mare, she with her red chestnut coat and silver fittings, and I with my red hair and steel armor, we were well matched, and fit to belong in such a noble company. Even the heat of summer could not diminish my pleasure as we made our way around Lord Elrond’s lands.

In late afternoon, my maids and I assembled for our lesson in the trees. A few of Kili’s mayhem classmates who didn’t have other duties also joined us. After we collected our weapons, targets, water skins, and such things, we set out.

In the remaining daylight hours, my students practiced in the trees all the things I had shown them before – traveling, shooting, and jumping, all as quietly as possible. I had emphasized that the advantages of troops in the treetops were lost if they were overheard, so voices remained low, steps were careful, and weapons were eased out of scabbards rather than brought out with a ring. Gone was the steel armor, replaced with padded leather and quilted linen in shades of brown and green. Today, I added knife practice, for the shorter blades were more practical among the branches than long swords. I enjoyed this time as much as my students.

As the sun fell, we closed ranks just to listen for a while, learning the night noises, watching how the trees changed in darkness, and seeing how the shadows added more hiding places to the already shifting views in the branches. I set up a pair of targets for everyone to practice their archery and knife throws, which brought home my descriptions of how darkness changed perspective. Our last lesson for the night was how to judge distances in the dark when flying from one tree to the next. Several students slipped, but fortunately no one suffered more than a bruise or two.

At length we were well exercised, and it was time to collect our things for the ride home. As was my wont, I climbed up to stand sentry while my pupils packed. It was something of a homecoming to be in the trees again, to feel the starlight so strongly, to savor the smell of green in the night –

The faintest glow flared just for a moment, a tiny moment, more suggestion than reality...

I dropped to the ground swiftly, and hushed my companions. They gathered silently around me.

“This is no longer a lesson. I thought I saw a torch flare to the north, but only for the briefest moment. Rhiannel, you are with me. We will see what it is, and we will come back here. The rest of you, keep silent, but mount and be ready to ride. Giriel, you will lead us home if I cannot. No heroics. Stay together. Ride for home and tell Master Oteriel.”

I didn’t wait for acknowledgement before I was back in the trees, Rhiannel behind me. He had taken quickly to my lessons, and was the quietest despite his height. Once we reached the canopy, I drew him close beside me, my mouth near his ear.

“Silent, and careful. Any sound can be the end of us. We go to find what is out there, nothing more. When we get close, I will go ahead. You will watch, and if I cannot return, you will make all speed to reach Giriel and the rest. Tell Oteriel without delay.”

He nodded, and we set off.

 My knives were in their sheaths, and my bow and quiver were in their harness, ready to my hand as I climbed through the canopy. I took extra pains tonight, for this was not my familiar forest, my well-known old trees; behind me, Rhiannel was just as careful. I took my time working my way north, perhaps a quarter mile, then a half mile. As I’d told Rhiannel, my approach was so slow because we could not afford to make any sound. If we were spotted, we could not simply fling ourselves across the canopy and into a hatch that led to the safety of a limestone cavern; we needed time to reach the ground and our horses before pursuit caught up to us. So carefully, carefully we went north, pausing for sounds that would guide me closer.

There. A whuff-whuff-hunh. One Warg greeting another of superior rank. That meant Orc. I signed Rhiannel to hold his place. I inched closer, then sat still, for the sounds were coming more frequently now. More than two Wargs, then. Perhaps seven or eight; perhaps a few more. I hunkered down on my branch, searching the shadows below me for the first sign of movement, or the first smell of Orc.

Yes, there was the decaying, unwashed stench of Orc. They had reeked in festering Mirkwood, distinct and pungent even over the pervasive smell of damp spores and rotten mire. Here in a healthy forest, the odor was even more intrusive. Below me were nine Wargs and an equal number of Orcs. They were about my height, mostly grey-skinned with the bow-legged stance that was both breeding as well as long association with Wargs. Their armor was cobbled together from bones, hide, and bits of teeth and wood, like carapaces of monstrous beetles, protection from both sunlight and enemy weapons. The beasts were the smaller, rangier ones familiar to me, unarmored, but decorated here and there with grisly relics of slain enemies. What had brought Mirkwood Orcs across the mountains, and so close to Imladris?

Something shifted, because the Wargs suddenly hunched in fear, snarling softly. Their riders weren’t far behind in sensing the change, for they closed ranks and faced east.

I froze with them when a giant Gundebad Orc on his huge Warg padded up to the group.

“Which one of you lit the torch?” the giant one snarled. His orange eyes glittered even in the dim starlight, like the promise of conflagration in the heart of a burned log. He looked as dark as fire char, too. Leathery skin, much marked with old scars, a headful of coarse black hair matted into a warrior’s tail at the point of his elongated skull, and a long, cruel jaw full of fangs made a formidable enough picture, but the purposeful, deliberate way he moved heightened his terrifying aura. His armor was no cobbled-together medley of bones and hide, but complex, articulated metal plates that protected his arms and shoulders, ridged with jagged protrusions that seemed like sharp, splintered outcroppings of bone. His lower legs and feet were similarly armored. The flayed faces of enemies dangled from his warrior’s tail and clothed his loins. The Warg that bore him was almost half again as big as the Mirkwood beasts, well fed, with fur that gleamed with health. The scimitar he carried was well clotted, and at least two heads of victims dangled from his Warg’s harness, attesting to how that scimitar came to be so foul.

The last time I had seen an Orc so big had been at Ravenhill, south of Erebor. Was this one of Bolg’s minions?

None of the Mirkwood Orcs would admit to lighting the torch that I’d seen. The Gundebad Orc drew himself up, glaring at the smaller ones.

“It did no harm, Lord Krugnash,” one of the smaller ones whined in placation. “The Elves don’t patrol their lands at night. Their magic keeps their borders safe from intrusion, so they have no need to venture outside. The night is ours alone.”

Krugnash’s lips curled, but he accepted the smaller one’s explanation. “Don’t light another. Now. What of today’s Elvish patrol?”

“The Dwarf was not among them today, Lord, though the she-Elf with the red hair was. They rode a circuit of their lands as they did yesterday. They didn’t venture into the forest, and we stayed hidden as you bade us.”

“Did you find the entrance to the city that their guard uses to reach the plains?”

The smaller one nodded quickly. “We did. It is hidden in plain sight, but once you see it, lord, you will see that its main defense is its location. There is no guard on the path outside the city.”

Krugnash nodded slowly, then flicked a glance at the smaller one. “Good, Snaga. You will show me this entrance.”

I slipped silently away, and when I was confident the Orcs would not hear me, I flung myself through the trees as fast as possible, driving Rhiannel before me. When we reached our comrades, we leaped from tree to ground to horse in a single breath.

“Orcs!” I hissed. “Ride hard and silently, or they will cut us off from the gate!”

We fled in a pack, unsparing of the horses. We knew this ground well, and I fervently hoped that that knowledge would keep us ahead of the Wargs. I brought up the rear, to watch for the Orcs as well as my students as we tore back to the city. We covered the ground in only a handful of moments, but it felt like hours before the break between tall rocks loomed ahead. I chased my students through the gap, leaped from Sirran’s back, and slapped her rump to keep her rushing after the other horses. Scrambling to the top of the rocks, I laid flat against them to peer out into the dark.

Scant moments passed before I sensed the dark shape of Wargs against the darker black of the sky. They shifted like uneasy, barely visible wraiths, silent and watchful, and didn’t venture near enough to the gate for me to hear what they said. They seemed to confer with the larger Orc for some moments, then vanished into the night. When I was sure they were gone, I climbed down and ran after my comrades.

Back in the safety of the arms hall, my students were gathered around Rhiannel who described what he’d seen. If any good had come out of this encounter, it was Rhiannel’s wide eyes as he described the Gundebad Orc to our comrades. It had been one thing to hear my description of an Orc that was nearly eight feet tall on a Warg of similar size. It was an entirely different thing to see one in the flesh, and he did a good job of conveying that difference.

Master Oteriel had been called, and hastened up just as I did.

“Orcs? Where?” he barked.

I described where. “Nine Mirkwood Warg riders. But they are not the greater concern. A Gundebad Orc commanded them.”

Oteriel’s gaze sharpened and his shoulders tightened. “Did you learn anything from them?”

I slid my eyes to my students, then to the exit. Oteriel understood at once, for he straightened. “The rest of you, see to your mounts, then take yourselves home. Do not speak of this until we have determined our next steps.”

“You all did well tonight,” I said to them, before they headed out. “Both in our lesson, and bringing us home safely tonight. Giriel, Flessen, see to Sirran and Halldin, please. Rhiannel, you stay.”

As soon as my students had gone into the stable with their horses, Oteriel beckoned to Rhiannel and me to follow him to his planning desk.

“Rhiannel, I assume you’re here because you saw the Orcs.”

“Yes, sir.”

He nodded, then looked to me. “Tell me.”

I told him everything I had absorbed from my spying, with Rhiannel filling in other details he’d noticed. That was one reason I’d had him accompany me; another set of eyes was always valuable to confirm critical facts.

“What do they want with you and Kili?” he asked bluntly, when Rhiannel and I had told him everything we recalled.

“We were at Erebor, sir.” I swallowed, and looked at Rhiannel. “Would you give me a moment with Master Oteriel, Rhiannel?”

“Of course,” he said in a subdued voice that had little of its usual lightness. When he had disappeared into the stable, I turned back to Oteriel.

“Kili and I... played a small but key part in the battle. With King Thranduil’s son, Prince Legolas, we... killed Bolg, son of Azog the Defiler, and leader of the Orc forces from Dol Guldur.”

Oteriel eyed me. “And?”

I looked away. “Forgive me, sir. I can’t say more than that.”

Oteriel didn’t look away. “Lord Elrond has told me of Kili’s lineage. I will not speak of it again. But I do so now because I must determine if the two of you are pursued for your role in Bolg’s death, or for Kili’s worth to the Orcs because of his lineage.”

I didn’t like yet another person knowing that Kili was Durin’s heir, but if Oteriel said he wouldn’t speak of it again, I believed him. “Kili’s lineage is the bigger reason, I think. Azog vowed to wipe out the line of Durin, and he killed Kili’s brother as well as his uncle in the battle, though at the cost of his own life. Bolg was his father’s son, and he had targeted both Kili and Prince Legolas. We barely managed to stop him. Whatever leadership remains cannot muster an attack on Erebor, but they can certainly look for ways to inflict suffering on the victors.”

Oteriel’s fingers tapped on his worktable, thinking. “I will speak with Lord Elrond immediately. It will do no good to mount an attack tonight. But we must see to strengthening our gates, and plan our patrols for tomorrow accordingly.”

I nodded understanding. “Please, I do not seek to tell you how to make your plans. But I did not exaggerate the size and strength of Gundebad Orcs. They and their Wargs are far more formidable than the Mirkwood denizens. Do not underestimate them.”

Maybe Oteriel saw something in my eyes that reinforced my words, because his eyes went flinty. “Have no doubt, Tauriel. I take your description as fact, and will plan accordingly. We will meet the worst of Gundebad with the best of Imladris. Take yourself home, but report back at dawn. We’ll all be on alert from this moment, until the threat is passed.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, and retreated.

I remembered to check that Sirran was comfortable, but Giriel had seen to my mare with care. My comrades had dispersed but for Rhiannel, so we walked slowly home, silent in the dark, but glad not to be alone. I bade him goodnight in the heart of the city, then I walked the rest of the way home. When I didn’t find Kili there, I went down to the forge. Even if he could not speak to me, I would make sure he was there, and safe.

An Orc horde had once stood between Kili and me, and the leader of that horde had almost taken Kili from me. This Krugnash commanded no horde, and Kili and I were not alone to fend him off – he would also have to brave the forces of Imladris if he wanted the Heir of Durin.

I hoped the forces of Imladris would be enough.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. The chess game continues...

 

_Krugnash bared his fangs in a grin as he rode away from the Elves’ paltry gate. One of the spindly creatures had watched them from the rocks. Good. It was always better to fight a frightened foe, because they made mistakes, and revealed more of their defenses than they should. He looked forward to adding their skins to his harness._

_If they helped him rid himself of the Mirkwood Orcs, too, all the better._

_* * *_

 

The steel came out of the furnace as white as bright summer sunlight at midday. It bore the vague shape of a blade already, though many steps in the shaping remained. I laid my hammer down in steady blows, coaxing the hot metal into the shape I saw in my mind, the shape that the metal yearned to become. Each time it went back into the fire, its yearning pulled me more, for as I shaped it, its own nature became clearer to it, the more it sought to reach it, and the easier my blows came. It didn’t matter how long I stood at the anvil, or how hot it was in the glow of the furnace. The metal called, I answered, and between the two of us, we came closer to the birth of the blade.

When the metal finally became the shape it had yearned to be, I quenched it in the warm oil that stood ready. This was the moment where a smith learned whether he’d crafted a useful piece, or dross. I drew it out, and laid it gently across the anvil...

“A fine blade, Kili!” Welnarrin nodded. “Well forged, indeed.”

It was. Welnarrin was the oldest Elf I’d met so far, outside of Master Oteriel and Lord Elrond. He’d smithed in Imladris for a thousand years, and if he liked my work, that was high praise. To anyone but a smith, the blade looked dull still, but polishing would remedy that. It had forged true, and would make a fine sword when properly fitted. Perhaps a carved bone handle...

“Thank you, sir,” I bowed. “I’m honored to have helped bring it to life. And I’ve never had the pleasure of working with such fine smiths. That’s an honor beyond the pleasure of the blade.”

Welnarrin’s eyes were pale gold, the color of the metal most precious to most Dwarves, if not to me, and they shone in appreciation. “‘The pleasure of the blade.’ That is how I think of it, too, and that marks us both as smiths. Perhaps we can talk to Lord Elrond about adding you to our efforts permanently?”

I grinned widely. “Yah, I’d like that, sir. I have a lot to learn, and here is where I’d like to learn it. But I pledged to serve the city on the guard, too. Your people allowed me a home here, and I want to do my part to defend it.”

“Defense can take many forms,” Welnarrin observed. “Your forging skills are rarer than your ability to serve in the guard. But we’ll come to balance about your duties in some fashion.”

“I hope so, sir. Thank you.”

“Now, take yourself home. Your wife was here last night, but after she saw you at the forge, she asked us not to disturb you. She was here again before dawn this morning, and at sunset this evening. It’s close to midnight now.”

My gut clenched. “I will sir. I’ll come tomorrow morning, if I can, to see if you need me.”

Welnarrin accepted my bow with a nod. “Until then.”

I collected Tauriel’s basket, now empty of both Dwarvish and Elvish fare, and the tunic I’d stripped off before I took my place at the anvil. I didn’t bother to put it on now; I was dripping wet and rank after nearly two days of work at the anvil, and the night air was still warm. Despite how long I’d been without sleep, I was alert and anxious enough to run up the path from the forge to our home. The outside lanterns were still lit on either side of the front door; they were Tauriel’s welcome to me, so I slipped inside and dropped the basket in the front hall.

“Tauriel?” I called quietly, heading straight to the garden. At my call, she’d paused by the fountain, as if I’d interrupted her pacing. Why, at this late hour, was she still in her guardsman uniform? “Welnarrin said you’d been to the forge several times while I was forging, but wouldn’t let him interrupt me. What’s happened? You’re well? The child’s well?”

“We are both well.” She came at once to me, and I was startled when she kneeled and wrapped her arms around me, despite how rank I was. Her fingers caressed my back as if she didn’t quite believe I stood before her. “And you are, too.”

I eased her away to look into her eyes. What I saw was worry, even fear. “You’re scaring me, Tauriel. What’s happened? You’re not missing me just for being at the forge so long.”

“Are you hungry? I’ll bring you something in the bath.”

Her voice was even, but her body was taut under my hands, so I knelt with her. “I’m not too rank or too hungry to find out what’s upset you, Tauriel. Tell me.”

She took my hands to draw us both to our feet. “I’ll tell you in the bath.”

I followed silently. Now that I wasn’t caught up in the yearning of blade metal, I had full measure of how sodden and grimy I was, so was glad to strip off my boots. I had to peel my heavy pants and smalls off like loose skin because they’d stuck to me from all the sweat. When I climbed into the cool water, I sighed despite my worry. Tauriel disrobed, pinned up her hair, and climbed in after me. She slid close, wanting me near despite my desperate need of a wash.

“Tell me. Please, _amrâlimê_.”

“The day you went to the forge, I took my maids’ class into the forest late that afternoon. When night fell, I saw a light to the north. It was a party of Mirkwood Orcs and their Wargs. A Gundebad Orc led them. They were looking for us.”

My gut clenched again, thinking of Bolg and the other huge Orcs we’d fought at Ravenhill. “Us, as in your class, or us, as in you and me?”

“You and me. They’d been watching the perimeter patrols for the past several days, noting when either of us rode with them. They’d also found the door the patrol passes through to get from the stables to the plains.”

“You told Oteriel, of course. What’s he done?”

She nodded. “He’s chosen not to ride out after the Orcs yet. They’re under the trees, close enough for their scouts to watch our patrols, but the Wargs are out of sight. I rode out with the patrol both days, just to make sure they stay interested. They have not appeared yet. But each time a patrol rides out, we have another mounted in the stable yard, so that if the Orcs attack we can ride out in support immediately.”

I leaned my head back, exhaling. “Why are they after us, as if I can’t guess?”

Tauriel’s eyes were hard. “This Orc is huge, Kili. As big as any we fought at Ravenhill. He has the same trappings as those Orcs did, too. He, or one of his kind, likely saw the fight you, Legolas, and I made against Bolg. Oteriel’s told me that fully three-quarters or more of the Gundebad Orcs fell with their leaders, so they can’t mount a fight for Erebor. But the ones that are left can use you to torment the Dwarves, as well as fulfill Azog’s vow to end the line of Durin. Perhaps they think they can use me in the same way to torment the Woodland Realm, because they don’t know that the king banished me.”

I swallowed. Fili’s fate at Azog’s hands would be a blessing compared to what the Gundebad Orcs would dream up for Tauriel and me.

“Oteriel knows that you’re Durin’s Heir, Kili. I didn’t tell him. Lord Elrond did. He’s keeping it to himself, but he understands the politics of potential hostages as well as we do.”

I grimaced. “Yet one more reason why I never wanted to be king. I’m not competent, I don’t want the job, and there’s always an enemy looking to kill you in agonizing ways.”

Tauriel eased the clasp out of my hair that had held it out of the heat, and then unbraided the central plait and the two side plaits. I closed my eyes, taking comfort in the soothing touch of my _amrâlimê’s_ hands. “I’m guessing that I won’t make it back to the forge tomorrow morning.”

Tauriel shrugged as she worked. “I don’t know. Oteriel wants to see us both as soon as we can get out of the bath.”

I reached for the soap. “I’m surprised he didn’t tell you to haul me out of the forge as soon as you saw the Orcs.”

“It was too late to mount an attack, and he chose to gather what information he could in other ways before he put you out on patrol.”

“Then I’d better wash so I can get out of the bath in due order. I’ll grab a handful of something to eat on the way there.”

“I’m sorry, _a’maelamin_.”

Pouring soap over my head, I rubbed briskly. “Better to see Oteriel now and know what’s what. It’s not as if I’ll be able to sleep after hearing we’ve got a Gundebad Orc looking for our skin.”

“His name is Krugnash, and he cannot reach us here. Outside, he has all of Imladris’ forces to face. And he has me. I will let him come within bowshot only so that I can shoot him. I have already requested a large supply of arrows.”

Tauriel’s beautiful face was stark in the dim light, and her blunt words were not the least bit funny. This was no declaration of a love-smitten Elf maid; rather, it was a warning from a seasoned warrior that ought to give even a Gundebad Orc pause. It wouldn’t, of course, but that could work to our advantage. An overconfident Orc might quickly run afoul of such determination. Then again...

“I hope you requested an equal supply for me,” I stroked Tauriel’s cheek. “I wish I hadn’t lost my old bow in the Woodland Realm. It’d send an arrow through a pair of Orcs at a time. It even had enough pull to take down a Warg.”

“I thought about that, _a’maelamin_. I looked through the armory, but we have no Dwarvish bows. But I found several short cavalry bows with heavier arrows that might suit you. You can look them over tomorrow.”

“I will.” I ducked under the water to rinse my hair. The rest of me took little time to scrub, and we dried quickly. With Tauriel to help with my hair, we were dressed in clean livery and through the front door quickly. I had slapped thick slices of lamb and cheese into a roll, and wolfed it down as we walked to the arms hall. Oteriel was in his workroom, and so was Lord Elrond.

“Kili, Tauriel, come,” Oteriel invited us as we appeared. He and Lord Elrond were bent over a map of Imladris, but both straightened as we drew near. “Kili, Tauriel’s told you of the threat.”

I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“She’s also told you about the reserve patrol.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The information she collected tonight with a trio of her students has narrowed the range where the Orcs have hidden.” I shot a look at Tauriel, but she remained impassive. She’d been up in the trees, watching the Orcs? My gut clenched once more, but I reminded myself that she’d watched from the Mirkwood treetops for centuries, and was neither a reckless nor an inexperienced scout. If anyone were competent to scout from Rivendell’s trees, it was Tauriel.

That didn’t mean I liked it. Not one bit.

“There is no guarantee that the Orcs will remain in the same place we found them tonight. Still, I intend to see if they’ll be drawn out wherever they choose to hide. Both of you will ride in tomorrow’s patrol. Perhaps that will tempt them to pounce. When they do, our second patrol will join the fray.”

We nodded understanding.

“Any questions?” Oteriel asked.

“Only a suggestion, with all respect, sir,” I exhaled. “I hope you’ll have both patrols armed from crown to toe, especially the second one that’s going to save the day. You’ll need bows with enough pull to take down a Warg for that Gundebad. From what Tauriel told me, he’s worth a dozen of the smaller ones, and that’s no lie.”

“Duly noted,” Lord Elrond spoke for the first time. His manner was mild, but his lips tightened in a grim, determined expression. It gave me heart. “I intend to lead our second patrol, so between us, we will save the day.”

If Lord Elrond was riding out with us, this was even more serious than I thought. But then I revised my opinion. The first time I’d come to Rivendell, Lord Elrond had led the patrol that attacked the Orc pack pursuing Uncle Thorin’s company. He had never been a ruler to order others to fight battles for him, and I respected him for standing at the head of his forces now.

“Do my best, sir,” I murmured.

“Tomorrow’s patrol will begin later than usual,” Oteriel continued. “Let’s see if tempting them close to sundown will draw them out. Report four hours after noon.”

“Yes, sir,” Tauriel and I acknowledged.

“Dismissed, both of you.”

“Yes, sir,” we repeated, made the requisite bow, and retreated.

“Nicely done in the trees tonight, Tauriel,” Lord Elrond murmured behind us. “And Kili, Welnarrin said your blade was well forged.”

“Thank you, sir,” Tauriel replied, and I echoed her. Then we made our way away.

We were out of earshot when I caught Tauriel’s hand in mine. “I know you’re the best one here to scout from the treetops, but it scares me, Tauriel.”

“I am the best, for now. Giriel, Rhiannel, and Valina are competent and improving each day, so I am not alone. Oteriel does not want the Orcs to know we watch them, so we are not close enough to hear much of what they say. But we know their haunts over the last two days, and that helps us plan the best place to place the patrol to draw them out.”

“Please, don’t take any risks that you don’t have to. You bear our child, and if anything happens to you, it happens to our child as well.”

“I could tell you the same thing before we ride out tomorrow. You are my _a’maelamin_ , and the father of our child. Guard yourself for all three of us.”

She was right, but she was also much more reconciled to the risks than I was. She was far older than I, and had seen many more Orc forays than I had. She’d also lived without purpose for so long in a war garrison that it was easier for her to reduce risk to an impersonal assessment than it was for me.

I remembered an old lesson from Master Dwalin, almost the first one he’d ever taught Fili and me about battle tactics. Warriors with an emotional interest in a fight were dangerous. But they were also likely to do something stupid or risky to protect that emotional interest, even if that imperiled their strategic interests.

Tauriel and I both had a high emotional interest in keeping each other alive. That Gundebad Orc likely didn’t know we were so closely linked, and we had to make sure that we kept it that way. Orcs didn’t love, but they valued it for the agony it allowed them to inflict on their victims through executions, torture, and mockery of those held dear. Krugnash already wanted us as a means to torture our folk. If he knew our bond, he’d use it as a means to torture both of us, too.

 

* * *

 

Despite Kili’s worries, he slept through the night. That was due more to his efforts at blade craft than calm. He’d stood for two days at anvil and forge with little respite, though he had eaten well enough. For the first time I understood the truth behind the legend of Dwarves and their magic with metal. I would call it affinity, or a precisely targeted intuition, rather than puffs of colored smoke and sleight of hand. It was not spells and incantations that I had seen in the few moments I had watched him over the past two days, but a deep understanding of metal. His efforts had also been a testament to the strength of Dwarves. The hammers he wielded were not light, and he had worked them over the metal for two days with precision and even delicacy, despite their heft. But even a Dwarf gets tired, and the Gundebad Orc was not yet worry enough to keep him from sleep after such a long labor.

On the other hand, perhaps he slept because I worried enough for both of us. Because of Azog’s vow, this danger likely had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with Durin’s Heir. If this Orc and his scanty pack of followers acted alone, then dealing with them ended the fight. But if their overlords knew about Kili being in Imladris, then dealing with them ended only a skirmish in a bigger fight.

I rested in the garden, but the night was clouded, and cast little starlight. Still, I took what ease I could, and waited for the day.

Dawn arrived, sultry and hot. It was a good day to stay inside in the cool of our house, but neither of us did. Kili headed off to the forge to keep himself occupied in the morning, and I went to the arms hall to see if any more news had arrived. It hadn’t, but all of the other captains had been similarly concerned, so we spent the morning planning contingencies. Those of us who would ride the late patrols dispersed for luncheon and what ease we could find. I detoured to the forge, where I found Kili working on his jewelry commissions. He greeted me with a smile, but it was subdued, for he was as preoccupied with this afternoon’s patrol as I was. We walked back to our house in silence, hand in hand.

We gathered luncheon in the kitchen, for it was cooler there than in the garden, and was a comforting room with the signs of our domestic happiness about us. As the sun waned past noon, Kili sketched a few more jewelry designs, and I weeded a shady corner of the garden. When it grew too hot for more work, I padded off to find Kili.

“What do you think of this?” Kili was in our bedroom, comfortably ensconced on the reading couch, his sketchpad on his knee. He held it out to me, so I stooped beside him to look at it. It was a cuff bracelet of entwined wire, with a single flower surrounded by leaves in the center.

“It looks like the bright snowflower from our garden that Bilbo found for us. Is this for Fallin?”

He smiled quickly, pleased that I’d recognized it. “His mother. His birthing gift to her. So I am trying to be more Elvish than Dwarvish in my design.”

“Oh, but there is a bit of Dwarf in it, with the knotwork around the flower. I like it.”

“Dwarvish designs are more angular, especially in the knotwork, but yes, I wanted a little bit of my kin in it.”

“It’s a good mix of both. I hope Fallin and his mother like it.”

He put the pad and charcoal stick aside with a sigh. “I know it’s early, but I’m for a bath. Then I’m going to the armory to look over those bows you told me about. Maybe a bit of archery will help to pass the time quickly.”

“A good idea. I’ll go, too.”

We didn’t dawdle in the bath, not even to couple. We were both too focused on this afternoon. Once dressed, we left our house with armor in hand; it was hot enough that neither of us wanted to encase ourselves in leather and metal before we had to.

The arms hall was cooler, but already busy. Several of our comrades were as eager as we were for today’s patrol. We skirted most of the going and coming and made for the armory, where I showed Kili the bows I’d discovered. He pulled several experimentally, and chose three to try. I was already content with mine, but went with Kili to the archery targets, an armload of arrows in my hands. We spent an hour or so shooting, having a friendly competition at the targets. He liked the Elvish bow he’d reverently taken from my friend Miriallan who lay dead in the forest from an Orc sniper, for it was shorter than the Imladris bows, though just as powerful. But one of the bows from the armory was both short enough as well as more powerful. Between the power of the bow and Kili’s own strength, he sent arrow after arrow nearly through the target.

“I’m not as accurate with it as with Miriallan’s bow,” Kili conceded, “but if I hit an Orc with it anywhere, I’ll run him through.”

“Or knock him off his Warg,” I agreed. “Those arrows are far heavier than the ones for Miriallan’s bow.”

Kili hefted the bow. “I’ll see if it fits my bow rig. If it does, I’ll carry it today. If not, I’ll carry my usual, and see about other fittings tomorrow.”

We collected our spent arrows and headed back into the arms hall. It was close to time for our patrol, so we quickly stowed the practice arrows and went to saddle our mounts and put on our armor. The stables were crowded, given that two patrols prepared to ride, but the tone was intent and purposeful. I heard very little chatter today. Our companions knew that the first patrol was the bait to tempt the Orcs to attack, and the second would face a hard ride if they heard the horn call for reinforcements. As we guided our horses from the stables, I saw that Kili bore his new bow, and had a full quiver of the heavier shafts. His face was calm, but set with determination. Before Oteriel called us to assemble, he rode up beside me.

“The Orcs don’t know what’s between us, _amrâlimê_ ,” he said softly. “We must keep it that way, or they will find a way to use it. So when we ride out, we are only warriors. Not husband and wife.”

Despite his youth, my husband was wise in the ways of posturing before an enemy. I clasped his forearm as comrades did before a fight.

“On the outside, it will be as you say. But never inside. Ride well.”

He smiled, conceding the truth of my words. “Good hunting.”

We assembled with our companions, and were soon off. We knew our roles without having to hear them again from Oteriel.

The plain was hot and dry, though a fitful wind gusted, and clouds glowered in the west. If it rained, it would do so far from us, but the air still was heavy with implication. I adjusted one of my stirrups slightly, but other than that, I was as prepared as I could be, and Sirran was intent beneath me. Many Elves were more keyed up than usual, so most of the horses had perked up accordingly. In deference to the heat, we rode slowly to save our mounts, but all eyes were alert and watchful. Kili might think that Elves do not sweat, and we don’t the way the other races did, but my back prickled as moisture traced down my spine.

I peeled off into the widely spaced, double lines of guardsmen, then peeled off again to space ourselves too widely for a single attack to closely target all of us. Kili was ahead of me, relaxed in his seat, his reins held to maintain constant contact with Trellennan’s mouth, but with soft hands. He was in the rightmost line of the guardsmen, the outside rank as we made a counterclockwise circuit around the plain, his gaze directed right where an attack was most likely to come. At regular intervals, we wove into different formations to keep any enemy off balance.

We reached the part of our circuit where last night I’d seen the Orcs, and braced for any sign of their Wargs leaping out to attack. Around me, my cohorts were equally braced, and even slowed a bit, tempting the Orcs to show themselves.

But nothing moved. Nothing.

I doubled my watchfulness, for when the expected doesn’t happen, many let down, thinking the danger is past – and that is when the enemy strikes. The Imladris Elves knew that as well as I, so tension was high as we continued over the circuit. But three hours after we started, close to dusk, we returned to the city without sighting a single thing out of place.

This Krugnash was smart, and patient. If he knew we looked for him, he also knew the value of giving an enemy’s nervousness time to ferment.

As soon as we rode into the stable, I led Sirran into her stall, but put off attending to her to find Oteriel. The master saw me approaching, and beckoned me closer.

“Tauriel, I want you in the trees –”

“Just why I’m here, sir. I want be in the trees. Did our quarry move on, or did he just hunker down for another day?”

“Just so. Giriel’s already asked to go as well. Follow the same path you trod last night. I’ll post the same sentries to trail you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Giriel was already stripping her armor to exchange it for the stealthier gear we preferred in the canopy. She looked up as I approached. “Gone, or playing coy?”

“Exactly,” I nodded. “I’ll see to Sirran, saddle another mount, and we’ll be off.”

Giriel’s nod was sober and calm. She was the most experienced maid of the guard, as collected and professional on duty as she was playful and spontaneous on her own time. She’d taken well to the canopy, and we were a good pair working together. I strode for Sirran’s stall, but found Kili there, perched on the box he used in Trellennan’s stall to work on my mare.

“I knew you’d ask to be in the trees tonight, so I saw to Sirran for you. She’s clean, dry, and has had a bit of water, not too cold. Anything else you need before you go?”

His tone was easy, and he had been a warrior long enough not to exhort me to be careful or tell he was scared for me while on duty. I imagined he and Fili had treated each other this way, and somehow it comforted me to think of the blond Dwarf I wished I’d known better. I gave one of Kili’s braids a gentle tug.

“A kiss would be nice.”

His lips curved up in that secret, mischievous smile. “Yes, it would.”

It was a sweet caress, his lips on mine, his fingers stroking my cheek. “Come back when you can, and I’ll offer you a bit more than a kiss, if you like.”

I hummed. “I look forward to it, _a’maelamin_.”

“So do I, _amrâlimê_. Sure footing, and good hunting.”

He turned back to Sirran, not watching me leave the stall. But I carried all of the exhortations he didn’t speak in my heart, and all of his affection as well. Then I put it aside, and prepared myself for my scouting with Giriel. Maybe we’d find the Orcs gone.

 

* * *

 

Giriel and I found the Orcs in the same grove they’d used last night. The next day, we ran the same patrol, with the same results. The Orcs were holding steady, and I wanted to know why.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. A short chapter, but an exciting one. Hope you enjoy the action. The game's heating up!

 

_Krugnash waited until almost dawn before he gathered his minions. He’d come upon another roving band of Mirkwood Orcs last night. There were eight of them, all better fed and better equipped than Krugnash’s group of outcasts, but just as easily lured into the thought of easy prey. All of them were ready to hunker down against the sun’s harsh light, and they didn’t like his order to travel east across the open space. There were no trees there, and they’d be forced to take what little cover there was against scattered rocks. He liked the sun little more than they did, but after two days of watching the Elves patrol from the trees without acting, it was time for different tactics. Despite their snarls, the Mirkwood scum and the newcomers skulked after him. He aimed for the section of the Elves’ patrol route farthest from their city, where they would be unprepared for attack, and farthest away from any reserve fighters. Even if the Elves passed at the sun’s highest point, the Mirkwood Orcs were hungry to attack after two days of enforced stillness, and the newcomers were no less eager. There would be eighteen of them to overwhelm the eight to ten of the Elvish patrol._

_He was hungry to get rid of this scourge of Mirkwood Orcs. The outcasts were sniveling, whining, and incompetent, desperate to find a way back into the good graces of their kin. It was unlikely that they’d take the Heir of Durin or the she-Elf on their own, but the newcomers were sharper, smarter, and quick to divine Krugnash’s interest in a particular Dwarf. Krugnash had no intention of letting any of them snatch his prize. The Elves would do away with most of the rabble, even the smarter ones, but they would be enough to kill even ten Elves. The Orcs that remained he would finish himself. Then he would execute the she-Elf, take the Dwarf in hand, and return to Gundebad with his prize._

_Or perhaps he would save the she-Elf for the trip home._

 

* * *

 

For the third time in as many days, I tacked up Trellennan and made ready to ride out on the afternoon’s perimeter circuit. Again, Tauriel and I were in the lead patrol, the bait to tease the Orcs out into the open. So far, today had been a hazy, close, windless day, the hottest of the summer thus far. It hadn’t rained for several days, but clouds were building in the west; they might well douse us before the end of the day, given how thick the air was. As used as I was to the forge, this heat by itself wasn’t so bad, but at the forge I could strip down to heavy pants, boots, and skin. Here, padded undertunic, padded leggings, mail shirt, greaves, vambraces, heavy gauntlets, armored steel mantle, and a padded steel helmet held the heat close. Even the Elves, who never seemed to turn a hair regardless of the weather, had a sheen on their faces before they put on their helmets. It would only get worse once we got out on the hot, dry plains, and the mostly dark-coated Elvish horses would suffer if we set too hard a pace.

It was some comfort that if Elves and a Dwarf would suffer in the harsh conditions, so would Orcs. They hated the sun under the best of conditions. Good. I hoped they cooked in their own rancid juices today.

Tauriel and I were too far apart in the line to exchange words, but I touched my chest and held my hand out to her, reminding her of where my heart was. Her expression was intent, ready for the hunt, but her eyes warmed as she returned my gesture. Then she was the huntress on her steed, intent only on our search. I gathered Trellennan underneath me, made sure my sword, knives, bow, and quiver were secure and ready to my hand, and followed in my turn as our patrol headed for the gate out to the plain.

Behind me, the reserve patrol stayed in the shade of the practice areas, but they wouldn’t be there long. They’d suffer today, too, because they intended to ride out a quarter hour after us, just to see if they spotted anything astir after the first patrol passed.

Oh, Valar, the plain was hot! Without a breath of breeze, the heat rose in an all-consuming wave as soon as we got a little ways from the Bruinen – the Loudwater River, in the Common Tongue – which was the source of all of Rivendell’s water. We rode slowly for the sake of the horses, but were too wary to venture under the trees despite the lure of shade. If and when the Orcs finally revealed themselves, we didn’t want to find out by being within bowshot of the trees.

The line of ten guardsmen stretched ahead and behind me, each of us alert to any change on the plain. Heat shimmer was a distraction, especially around the outcroppings of dark rock baking in the sun. The glare was another trial, for the grass covering the plain was baked to a pale wheaten color that reflected back most of the light that hit it. But that diminished as we progressed, for the clouds above us were building, turning darker, and dipping low under the weight of the rain they held.

We’d gone not quite halfway around the circuit when the clouds rumbled, and rain began to fall. It wasn’t a driving rain at first, but steadily increased as we progressed. The wind, nonexistent until now, kicked up to drive the rain across the plain in sheets. The thunder continued. I hoped the lightning held off; it was no joy to be the tallest things on a treeless plain encased in a mail shirt and steel helmet. At least we were a bit closer to home than away now, having just passed the halfway point –

“Behind!” the cry went up.

I wheeled Trellennan. Sure enough, flying silently through the rain, out from a large outcropping of rocks, was a low-slung Warg with a grey Mirkwood Orc astride it. I grabbed my bow, nocked an arrow, and waited for it to come closer. I scanned around us quickly, looking for other attackers. Yes, nine of them, circling to ride in from all sides. Where was Tauriel? Four guardsmen to my right, her bow already tracking an Orc.

“First one on the left!” I bellowed, telling my cohorts which one I targeted. Trellennan held his stance as I let the arrow go. There! Right into the chest of the Warg, dropping it in its tracks. I left the Orc to another as I concentrated on the Wargs. I sent Trellennan cantering after another one of the beasts, putting an arrow through it just behind its rider. I nocked another arrow as the beast fell –

“To your right!” Tauriel’s voice rang out.

I jerked my bow from the downed Orc to the Orc rushing in from the rocks. I missed the shoulder of his Warg in the wind and rain, instead putting a glancing shot into his flank that wasn’t enough to bring him down. The beast snarled, but his rider drove him at me at the same time the downed Orc rushed in with his scimitar. I shouted to Trellennan, getting his front hooves up in the face of the Warg, dealing him a vicious kick to the snout. It was enough to divert the Warg that I kneed Trellennan out of range. My horse whirled on his back hooves, giving me a clear shot at the Orc on foot, so I snatched another arrow, nocked it, and let it fly all in a sweep. I hit the Orc solidly in the chest, so forgot about him to look for the wounded Warg. They were almost on Trellennan’s back! As he scrambled aside, I jabbed an arrow between the Orc’s bits of armor, but he contorted his body to avoid my blow and grabbed me with both hands. I rammed my helmet into his jaw with a curse, and slammed him across the face with a gauntleted fist hard enough to spray us both with black blood. The arrow I’d put into the side of his Warg caught on my leg, so I grabbed it and jabbed it deeper into the Warg, drawing a howl from him as his leg buckled.

When the Warg stumbled, the Orc slid off its back, but he got a hand on my armor. I sprung the straps of my saddle harness to slide off Trellennan’s back, pounding the Orc mercilessly as we went down. We rolled in the slippery, wet grass, him scrabbling to keep his purchase on my armor, and me punching every piece of grey flesh I could reach. I finally straddled him and put my knife in his chest, then across his throat. I scrambled to my feet, yelling for Trellennan.

The wounded Warg still struggled to get to his feet in the mud, hampered as he was with that dragging right leg. Before he got his three good feet under him, I slogged forward, knife in one hand and sword in the other. What I wouldn’t have given for a good Dwarvish axe! The Warg’s fangs gaped wide, a clear target for my sword. I thrust it past the fangs and into the roof of his mouth. When his head reared up, I let the sword go and rammed my knife into his throat, jerking it hard. He finally went down with a gurgle. I jerked my sword free, slammed my knife into its sheath, grabbed my bow from the ground, and hauled myself back atop Trellennan with sheer arm strength.

Where were we in the fight? Around me, Elves still pursued Wargs through the driving rain, and bore down on the Orcs who slithered about on foot. I still had arrows left, so I rejoined the chase, taking down another Warg who leaped at Rhiannel, who was on foot. I caught the Warg through the side of the head, and Rhiannel sliced the Orc as he tumbled off. Then I pulled Rhiannel up behind me –

Just in time! Another seven Orcs on Wargs came careening towards us.

“Wargs from the east!” both Rhiannel and I howled, and turned to face the new foes as the horn sounded for reinforcements. Rhiannel still had his bow. He was an expert shot with either hand, so I leaned right and he leaned left to send shafts at the leading pair of Wargs. We dropped them both. We managed to get off another pair of shots before I urged Trellennan around and away.

“There is the second patrol!” Rhiannel wiped the water out of his eyes and pointed his bow at the oncoming Elves, Lord Elrond at its head.

“Then let’s finish this!” I snarled, as the second patrol rode past us. “Anything behind us?”

“No. I’ll slide off and we can hold here.”

“Yah.”

Rhiannel stood beside Trellennan, and we held there with bows drawn, taking a trio of loose Wargs and a single Orc afoot as they raced by, but the battle was over in large part. A few sword blades rang as Elves finished off Wargs and Orcs. I counted quickly. There were ten in my patrol, ten in Lord Elrond’s. Let’s see, fifteen astride, four afoot –

Oh, Valar, Valar, where was Tauriel?

I scanned all of the Elves again, hoping I’d just missed her in the drifting rain. Where was the tail of red hair that was hers alone, and her chestnut mare, Sirran?

I stifled her name before I shouted it. If she’d fallen, or if one of the Orcs had taken her...

“Rhiannel.” I rasped. “Do you see Tauriel?”

He swiveled around, searching. “I don’t. I saw her near the rocks, after one of the Orcs on foot, just before my horse went down.”

“You’re all right here?”

“Go find her, Kili. The last Warg just went down, and I can fend off any Orc that runs this way.”

I nudged Trellennan towards the rocks Rhiannel had indicated. I circled them. There, against the far side, Tauriel was hunched over. My first thought was that she taken a blade to her gut. My second was for my unborn child. But Tauriel loomed over an Orc, one knife at his throat, and the other stuck an inch or two into his hip. He’d been sliced nearly through, but had enough life left for her to harry. When she leaned on the lower blade, the Orc gave a gurgling shriek and tried to push her away, but he was close to spent.

“What do you want with us?” she snarled, not for the first time, and leaned on her knife again.

 I slithered off of Trellennan and sloshed to her side. “What are you doing?”

Her eyes were terrible with rage. “He’s going to tell me what he wants with the Elves of Imladris.” Her gaze returned to the Orc, and she leaned on the knife again. “Aren’t you?”

“The Dwarf! The Dwarf!” he shrieked, his eyes meeting mine. “He wants the Dwarf! He wants you!”

“Who wants the Dwarf?” I demanded. “Krugnash? The Orc from Gundebad?”

The Orc nodded frantically. “Krugnash! Krugnash! He says you’re the Heir of Durin.”

“He’s a fool,” I snapped. “The Heir of Durin died at Ravenhill.”

If an Orc could look chagrined, this one did. “Then all of this was for a lie?”

He closed his eyes in disappointment, seemed to fall in on himself, and died before either Tauriel or I could reply.

Tauriel wiped her knives clean on the wet grass, then sheathed them. She climbed to her feet. She was sodden and muddy, but when she met my eyes, they might have seemed cooler, but they were no less murderous. I wanted to shake her, break her mood, but we’d agreed that on the field of battle, we were only warriors, not husband and wife.

“Tauriel,” I whispered, in case there were still Orc ears near. “Tauriel. He’s dead. The battle’s over. Where is Sirran?”

“He shot Sirran.” Tauriel’s voice was remote. “He shot my mare.”

She turned her back on the Orc, the rocks, and me, and walked towards where the rest of the patrol was regrouping in the rain. The downpour had lessened at last, and the thunder had stopped. I took up Trellennan’s reins and followed her in silence. When she found her dead horse, she stooped by the mare to stroke her cheek once, before moving on.

None of the Elves in either patrol had suffered any wounds, though three of the horses were dead, Rhiannel’s and Tauriel’s among them. None of the Orcs had survived the battle. A pair of the Wargs had run off, but the rest lay dead by their riders.

No one had spotted the Gundebad Orc.

We retrieved as many arrows as we could find, stripped the tack from our dead horses, and left the dead where they lay. As we headed home, still watchful, Tauriel rode pillion behind me. She was silent.

I touched her leg. “I’m sorry about Sirran, _amrâlimê_.”

Her hands were around my waist, and they tightened. Still guarding against watchful eyes, she didn’t put her head against my back to cry, but I knew she did. She’d lost so much in that cursed tomb of a Woodland Realm that any new loss cut twice as badly.

I rode in silence, thanking the Valar that I hadn’t lost my wife.

 

* * *

 

_Krugnash snarled when the second patrol of Elves thundered through the rain and overwhelmed all of the Mirkwood Orcs. For four days, the cursed spawn had sent out a single patrol of eight, then today they send out two of ten each! Even the rain, which favored the Orcs, had done no good!_

_Beside him, Snaga cowered, sensing the foul mood of his master, but Krugnash did not cuff him. He glared at the smaller Orc._

_“You will watch the patrols until I return. Hold here as long as you continue to see either the she-Elf or the Dwarf. If you do not see them for four days before I return, you will ride to Gundebad and tell me so.”_

_Snaga swallowed a whimper, but he didn’t dare protest._

_As soon as the Elves had taken themselves back to their pestilential city, Krugnash left the Mirkwood sniveler and headed north. Events in Gundebad would have stabilized by now, and more of his kind would return with him._

_He had been denied the Heir of Durin today, but the hunt was not over._


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. The momentous day is getting close for our intrepid pair. Hope you enjoy the lead up.
> 
> Thanks for reading along. Please leave me a comment if you like.

I watched Tauriel narrowly as we cleaned up in the stable after our skirmish with the Orcs. She didn’t have a horse to tend, of course, but she cleaned her saddle and rig with as much care as she always did, and placed it in the tack room with studied precision. When she came out, she and Rhiannel and Tethrandil, the other Elves who had lost their mounts, gravitated to each other for consolation. The Orcs had attacked to maim the horses, rather than kill them outright, and in fact Sirran was the only one that had died from an arrow. The other two had had their legs smashed, and their riders had had to put them down to end their suffering. Elves loved their horses with an intensity that I’d seen in no other people, and despite our decisive victory, the mood in the stable was somber.

That’s why the Orcs were after me. They wanted to torture me to death in front of Erebor to poison the Dwarves’ victory, just as maiming our horses had poisoned our victory today.

What had the Orc’s masters done to them, to fill them so full of hate?

I tended Trellennan without finding any answer. Tauriel, Rhiannel, and Tethrandil had gone into Sirran’s stall to mourn quietly, and I left them alone as I cleaned and dried my armor. Between the rain, mud, and Orc blood, it took all of us a long time, so we sat together in the open area between the stalls, sharing a common chore as well as the presence of friends. Lord Elrond was with us, wiping and polishing his armor as we all did. When I was done, I leaned over to Giriel.

“I’m getting Tauriel’s armor,” I murmured softly. “If you get Rhiannel’s, and if someone else can get Tethrandil’s, maybe that’ll ease them a bit.”

Giriel and Fallin came with me to Sirran’s stall where our comrades mourned, uncaring of their begrimed and sodden armor.

“Off with your gear, you lot,” I said, “so we can do for it. Then we’re going to our house and get all three of you drunk.”

Tauriel looked up, trying to find a smile for my rough concern, but she couldn’t. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, and her blank expression showed me now numb she was. I went to her, as Giriel went to Rhiannel and Fallin went to Tethrandil, and we started unbuckling, unhooking, and loosening. We got all the metal off, and we shoved them towards their cubbies in the guardroom to don dry tunics and leggings while the rest of us set to cleaning. Even Lord Elrond took up a pair of vambraces to wipe them dry. With seventeen of us working on the lot, it wouldn’t take long to put everything back in order, and stow it for the next time we rode out.

I sat on the floor of the stable, cleansing Tauriel’s matched knives of so much black blood. Giriel had Rhiannel’s sword in hand, which was no less foul. There was something about Orc blood that was almost corrosive, and any spot left unclean turned the metal black, like a disease. I didn’t want Tauriel’s bright blades sullied, so wiped the open parts in the blades carefully to get all of the spots.

Our three comrades came out of the guardroom in dry clothes. We shifted to make room for them among us, and as they sat, someone started a soft song. I didn’t know this one, but once I caught the tune, I hummed along. It was about horses, of course, both a celebration of their lives and a lament at their passing. I wasn’t surprised; as Bilbo had said, there was always music in Rivendell, and today it helped us mourn.

When the song was done, Lord Elrond talked to us. There were nineteen of us, but it was as if he spoke to each of us alone, offering what each of us needed, whether solace and comfort for our loss, or thanks for defending our city. He even had words for me, because I felt guilty that the Elves’ defense of me had cost my comrades their beloved horses.

“You did not take the lives of our friends, Kili. The Orcs did that. If they had not attacked, no lives would have been lost. When they rode out against us, you defended your comrades well. You protected Rhiannel and several others with the strength of your arrows. I thank you for that.”

I’d already told myself that, but part of Lord Elrond’s magic was that when he said something, I believed it. So I was a little eased.

We ended up not going to our house. Someone produced a bottle to pass around while we sat listening to Lord Elrond, then another one mysteriously appeared, then a few plates of food, and then a few more bottles of wine. No one got drunk, but swallows from a common bottle passed among friends were comforting, and as full dark fell, we were able to face the walk home. We went together, Elves peeling off in ones and twos as we passed their houses, until it was Tauriel’s and my turn to peel off.

We came into our house quietly. Tauriel hadn’t said much all evening. She didn’t protest when I undressed us and put us in the tub. I found the sponge, and the soap she liked best, and washed the mud from her body and mine.

“Of course you mourn for Sirran,” I murmured, as if she’d spoken. “How could you not? She was your trusted companion, and a good steed.”

Her emerald eyes closed, and her head drooped to rest on my shoulder. Finally, in the privacy of our home and the cradle of my arms, she let herself cry openly. I shut my eyes and held her. There was nothing to say.

 

* * *

 

Sirran’s loss affected Tauriel for some time after the battle. Until now, our time in Rivendell had been idyllic as we’d found a house, made a home, and married. I was a smith, and Tauriel was one of Lord Elrond’s captains. We were guardsmen, teachers, and students. We’d made friends. In every way, we’d become true denizens of Rivendell.

Then the Orcs took Sirran from Tauriel, as they’d taken her parents. She didn’t speak of either loss, but her eyes weren’t quite as bright, and her smile was less ready. She didn’t speak of her fear that the Orcs were not done with us, and that she was braced against losing me. I didn’t think they were done, either, but I tried not to dwell on it, or say so to Tauriel.

Slowly, slowly, as weeks passed without any sign of Orcs, either Mirkwood or Gundebad, her dread eased. She had a new horse, Jalsin, which lessened her sadness over Sirran’s death. We also had neighbors around us now, a community Tauriel hadn’t had in the Woodland Realm. Several of our guardsman comrades, both maids and lads, took over several nearby houses, and Tauriel and I gladly helped them settle. We began the pleasure of shared suppers roughly once a week. We also worked together to clean the rubble from our street, replant the common borders, and even scavenged a fountain from a few streets over to make a shared courtyard in our midst, with greenery and flowers to complement the water. When any of us came home late from duty, it was a grace to hear the fountain, smell the greenery, and see the warm glow of greeting lamps up and down the street.

The year deepened to fall. One evening, I came home from the forge just as Tauriel was about to bathe. She called to me when I closed the front door behind me, so I shed my coat and boots in the hall and met her in the bathing chamber. She kissed me with a smile.

“Your timing is perfect,” she invited. “I’ve just warmed the bath, so it’s ready for a begrimed smith.”

“Don’t wait for me, _amrâlimê_ ,” I urged. “Go ahead and get warm, and I’ll follow you in but a moment.”

She gave me a look, because it was clear that I intended to savor the sight of her as she took off her robe and slipped into the tub. I grinned back without apology, leaning against the doorjamb with crossed arms as I waited for her to display her beauty. She let the padded silk slide off her shoulders, and stood naked before me to pin up her fiery red hair –

“Tauriel.”

She gave me a look. “Yes?”

“I can see it. You’re bearing our child. I can see it.”

She paused, her hands in her hair, which emphasized the slight roundness of her belly, the delicate swelling of her breasts. She looked at herself in the mirror, smiling at the changes.

“You noticed.”

“I noticed?” I repeated, looking at her in surprise. I went to her and took her hands to kiss them. “Of course I did. Looking at you is always my delight, _amrâlimê_. I love your beautiful hair,” I reached up to brush it, “and your emerald eyes,” I tapped her nose with a finger, “and your luscious skin,” I stroked her shoulders, “and everything about you. So how can I help but notice that your divine breasts are deliciously fuller,” I stroked my thumbs over her nipples, “and your belly is a round pearl with our child at its center?”

I put a gentle hand on her belly to stroke it. Then I snickered.

“What have you done, Kili?” Tauriel looked a mock frown at me, but her smile was underneath it.

“You need a bath more than you did a moment ago, I’m afraid. You’ve got soot from your honest smith all over you.”

Tauriel looked at herself in the mirror, shaking her head at the evidence of my affection. “Then my honest smith better take off his clothes and join me in the bath before he leaves any more smudges.”

“Will I get a reward if I do?” I asked, happy to see Tauriel so lighthearted.

She looked me up and down, considering. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On how well you take off your clothes.”

“Oh, is that it? Hmmm, do I have to dance about while I do it? Or can I just do a straight peel and clamber in after you straightaway?”

“Dancing... that would be funny, but maybe laughter isn’t the reward you’re looking for. A straight peel... that wouldn’t give me time to come up with a suitable reward. You’ll have to do something in between.”

“I know – I’ll strip and wander around the bathing chamber, scratching like a Dwarf who thinks he’s alone. That ought to give you time to think of a suitable reward.”

“A flea bath?” Tauriel fired right back, laughing. “I think there’s some lye soap in the scrub basket. Shall I get it?”

I shuddered. “Not if you want me to have any skin left. I think I’ll just take off my clothes as if my _amrâlimê_ were watching me, and I were watching her watch me.”

Tauriel slipped into the bath, arranged herself at the far end, and smiled in anticipation. “That sounds perfect.”

So I did, and when I had left my clothes on the floor and had eased into the water, my wife rewarded me with a sponge full of soap in the face. I ducked most of it, laughing, and we tussled a bit until I let her dunk me under the water.

“There, you’ve gotten me completely wet, so you get to wash my hair,” I teased, but it was no punishment, given how much Tauriel liked to do it and I liked her to do it. I was a lot filthier than she, so we spent more time scouring me than her, but that meant I spent more time caressing her than scrubbing, which was also no punishment. I loved any chance to show Tauriel how much I loved her; today, however, with the first overt signs that our child was growing, I especially wanted to her to know.

When we were clean, we helped each other out of the tub, dried, and dressed so we could make our supper.

“How much longer before our bairn comes?” I asked as we shared a warm stew and rolls, as well as Tauriel’s usual helping of greens.

She swallowed her spoonful of stew. “I’m not sure. It’s been nine months since we made our child, so perhaps three or four months more? Perhaps less. You said your folk make a child faster than the Eldar.”

I shrugged. “I can’t be sure. _Maamr_ could tell us. I wish she were here.”

Tauriel hummed. The look she gave me over her roll was tentative. “Do you think... she would accept us? Accept me?”

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “She wasn’t strident, like Uncle Thorin...”

She hummed again. “I wonder sometimes, when folk are so... definite.”

I cocked my head at her as I spooned my stew. “What do you wonder?”

She took a bite of roll, chewed thoughtfully, and swallowed. “I had never met a Dwarf before I met you, and yet I thought they were...”

“Surly bastards beneath contempt,” I grinned. “It’s all right; you can say it. You married me, so I know you don’t think we’re all that bad.”

Laughing ruefully, she nodded. “Yes, I didn’t think highly of Dwarves, even though I had never met one. Then I met you and your company. Little Ori was very shy, and sweet, and he drew wonderful pictures. Balin was very polite, even courteous. Bofer was always smiling, and he sang very well.”

“Master Dwalin was an obscenely surly bastard, and Uncle Thorin was as arrogant as your erstwhile king,” I poked, laughing.

“Yes, on both accounts. The point is, you were all different, and none of you were like what I thought Dwarves were. So I wonder whether your _Maamr_ knows any Elves as more than characters in a song.”

I thought about the times Fili and I had defended her character against those insinuations about my birth in particular, and Fili’s by association. “A lot of Dwarves thought so, because of the way I look.”

Tauriel smiled. “You do look Elvish in some ways. Fili did, too, if not as much.”

“Fili and I talked about it,” I confessed. “ _Maamr_ never said to either of us, and I didn’t care. But even if she favored an Elf to bear us, she never said anything of Elves as a folk, good or bad. She kept her counsel, and didn’t care what anyone thought about her.”

“So perhaps she would be more... favorable than not,” Tauriel said hopefully.

The guilt I felt about leaving _Maamr_ to think I’d died on the way to Erebor rose to the surface again. She deserved better... but on the heels of that thought were all the usual followers – I didn’t want to be king; I’d make a terrible king; my line had suffered from gold sickness, that obsession with gold to the detriment of all else, and had led our people into ruination because of it; Dain was the best one to rule...

I’d wrestled with the impasse since I’d watched Fili and Uncle Thorin die atop Ravenhill, and I still didn’t have a solution that eased _Maamr_ and kept me out of the kingship.

“Perhaps she would,” was all I said to Tauriel. I wouldn’t spoil the rekindling of her bright spirit with a moral dilemma she couldn’t solve.

 

* * *

 

As if the Valar had heard last night’s conversation with Tauriel on the nature of Dwarves, the next time I went to the forge, Master Welnarrin told all the smiths to be on the lookout for the next ore shipment due to arrive soon from the Iron Hills.

The ironmongers from those mountains, of course, were Dwarves.

I had some thinking to do.

 

* * *

 

The year might be on the wane, and the earth’s green might faint in the face of the cold that would lead to spring, but my spirit was rising at last. It had languished since I’d lost Sirran, my lively chestnut mare, to the viciousness of an Orc. I hadn’t been prepared for how badly her death would shock me. It was so unexpected, and so unnecessary.

I’d seen the Orc fall to Fallin’s sword, nearly gutted. When his Warg had fallen, too, I’d vaulted from Sirran’s back and raced to reach the Orc before he died, hoping to get words out of him about why he was after Kili. He’d scrabbled for his bow, and he’d aimed it at me –

At the last moment, he’d targeted my mare, and shot her full in the chest. He’d had a clear shot at me, but he’d chosen to shoot Sirran. He’d shot my smart, affectionate, spirited, beautiful chestnut mare.

Perhaps he’d thought that her death would so infuriate me that I’d put a knife into him and end his misery. Oh, I’d put my knife into him, Valar curse him. I’d made his agony worse so he’d tell me what his pack of murderers wanted, as if I didn’t know. So he’d confirmed, but not before my sweet husband had had seen me wring it out of him with as much cruelty as he’d shown Sirran.

If Kili had come after me not even two moments earlier, that Orc could have shot him instead.

I cannot describe the wave that swept me away. Rage? Yes. Grief? Yes. Despair? Perhaps that was the greatest part. Out of the Orcs’ slaughter at Erebor, I’d gained a new life in Imladris with my cherished Kili, treasured friends, a blessed lord, and a purpose to my life that I’d missed for centuries. But the Orcs weren’t gone. They still loomed, intent to continue their affliction upon the people of Middle Earth.

No, not only the people of Middle Earth. The sound of Sirran’s gasp when the Orc’s arrow had struck her would never fade. Not even the anticipation of the child I bore kept me from grieving for her. I hadn’t thought to protect her. If I’d taken my bow when I’d vaulted from her back...

I felt more sympathy for King Thranduil now, hidden in his limestone cavern, devastated at the loss of his _a’maelamin_ , his father, and most of his warriors, desperate not to lose anything more. I felt that same devastation, that same loss.

My sympathy for the king, I thought, was what roused me from my despair. Kili was kindness itself, making sure that I knew how much he loved me, but for a while that reminded me only of all I had to lose to the Orcs’ cruelty. My friends were just as gentle, making sure that I was not alone too much. But again, that reminded me of the bounty that was mine to lose. In thinking about Legolas’ father, though, I decided that I didn’t want to become so haunted and arrogant in the face of what I hadn’t yet lost. I might never lose it. If one day I did, then I would mourn, retreat, despair, grieve. Until then, I would not let the Orcs sap the joy from my life. I would hold the things I loved closely, fight to keep them, and remember to be joyful rather than cower in the face of what might never come.

Of course, if the Orcs ever took anything more from me, it went without saying that they would pay dearly for it.

As fall faded in Imladris, the immediate specter of the Orcs faded. We saw no more on our patrols, though now only Kili rode out. My bearing had progressed enough that it was obvious to everyone, and so I became the city’s new excitement. No child had been made here for hundreds of years – typical of the Eldar, but sad, given how empty the city was. Even the Woodland Realm had births more frequently, though they were still a rare occurrence. I thought it perverse that so many Elves congratulated me and declared our child a hope for the future... but none of them thought to make one of their own.

Because of the long, long span of years that had passed since the last Elven birth, the apothecary whom Kili and I consulted sent us down to the fields where so much of Imladris’ food was grown, to find a midwife of Men. We walked down in the afternoon to find her on a stool in her barn, milking a curly-haired goat that placidly chewed its cud and stared at us interestedly with her oddly spaced eyes.

 “Mistress Ysola?” I queried.

Ysola straightened, then turned to meet our eyes. She was old for her race, with a mane of thick white hair bound in two long braids framing a brown, wrinkled face. Her considering eyes, almost as blue as Legolas’, crinkled in a smile when she saw my belly.

“Now that be a sight I’ve not seen before. A bearing Elf maid. Good for you!”

Kili and I exchanged a smile. “We think so,” he said cheerfully.

“Yon Elvish apothecary sent you?”

“He did,” I nodded.

“Must be Parrinon, then.”

We nodded.

“Smart Elf, that one,” she grinned with satisfaction. “Some of ‘em, they get their dander up if you ask ‘em about something they know nothing about. Parrinon, he be more sensible. He’s not seen a birthing before. Me, I see ‘em almost every week or two. So he sent you down here to find me. That’s good. How far are you along?”

“A year, next month,” I said. “Elves bear longer than Men. Perhaps another two or three more months?”

Ysola looked me up and down without haste, considering. She bent her eyes on Kili. “You be the sire?”

Kili smiled broadly. “I am.”

Ysola chuckled at his pride. “You be the Elf maid and the Dwarf I’ve heard tell about. I’d hoped to see you along about now. Glad to meet you both.”

“I’m Tauriel, and he’s Kili. We’re glad to meet you, too.”

“Well met. Just you give me a moment to finish with Caryol here, and then we’ll talk.”

The Woman returned to her milking, so Kili and I wandered towards the kitchen garden outside of the farmhouse. There wasn’t much green in it this close to winter beyond kale and leeks, though the expanse of the beds spoke of burgeoning greenery during the warmer months.

“That looks like the chives Bilbo liked so much,” Kili said, pointing to the straggly remains of thin, spiky stalks.

“It looks like the chives _you_ like so much,” I grinned. “All you need is a few tubers and some parsley.”

“There’s the parsley,” Kili pointed to another plant, still green. “No tubers, though. But that looks like rosemary. Bilbo loved that in game pie, didn’t he? Now, that one, I don’t know what that one is.”

“That be tarragon. Good on the fish they pull out of the Loudwater,” Ysola replied, coming up behind us with her milk pail. She was a sturdy Woman, as tall as I, comfortably thick in the middle. She wore roomy clothes well suited to tending the goats and sheep browsing in the nearby field – Man’s blue trousers, stout leather boots, a green tunic embroidered in shades of blue and yellow, and an old blue coat over all. She had a string of amber beads at her neck, beaded clasps on her braids, and a bracelet of small round green stones, and she was as well tended as her holdings, so she was a prosperous woman. “I’ve got a good bit drying up in the stillroom against the winter. Just as good dried as fresh.”

“How do you cook your fish?” Kili asked, always interested in another way to cook food. “Baked or pan fried?”

“Either way. But if you get one of the big ones, clean ‘er out, stuff ‘er with ramps and tarragon and dill, cover it with a thick layer of rock salt, and bake it. Crack off the salt, then dig in. Salt keeps it moist, and the bones lift out easy. Good eating.”

“Let’s try that, Kili,” I said. “It sounds delicious.”

“Valar, a bearing Elf who also knows how to eat more than greens,” Ysola teased, leading the way into the farmhouse. “You come in, and we’ll have a sip and a word.”

The farmhouse was as tidy inside as the garden, barn, and field, with a big cupboard full of various powders, liquids, and mixtures against one wall. Our midwife was an herbalist as well, it seemed. The comfortable ginger cat ensconced in one of the chairs by the fire nosed at Kili when he stretched out a hand; another favored a windowsill where she surveyed a view of the garden. The pair viewed us with interest while Ysola busied herself putting a teakettle on the stove, and setting out cups, saucers, and plates on the dining table. A plate of sturdy cakes went beside the teacups, studded with raisins. She worked easily, with neither haste nor indolence.

“Now, tell me about your bearing,” Ysola began, waving us into seats as she poured the tea. She slid the plate of cakes closer. “Any sickness of a morning?”

“None. Kili’s told me that that happens to Dwarf maids and your Women, but I haven’t suffered that. On the contrary, I feel more alive. I know our child is within, growing, happy. We feel our child move, and all is well.”

Ysola listened intently in her unhurried way, and proceeded to ask both Kili and me questions about everything we knew about how our folk bore a child. She asked to feel my belly, which I allowed. Her hands were wrinkled, but firm and adept. When she spread her hands wide across my belly, she seemed to be listening. She felt the sound of my heartbeat, and wanted to see my ankles, so Kili pulled off my boots for her.

“Good. No swelling in your ankles, heart’s steady, you be content, babe’s content. Good that you be thin for a Dwarf, Kili. Dwarves’ babes be big and robust. Hard for a slender Elf to birth. This babe feels bigger than Elf, but not so big as Dwarf.”

“Can you tell how long it has to go?” I asked.

Ysola shook her head. “You say Elves bear for a year and maybe a quarter more. Dwarves bear for ten, eleven months. You’ve gone eleven so far. You’re not full to bursting like a Woman yet, or a Dwarf maid. So a few weeks yet. You still be riding out with the guard?”

I shook my head. “We thought it wise for our child to stop, before I fell or rode into battle again.”

“Good, Tauriel. Facing combat is the clearest risk to the babe, though we’ve had calm these past months. But you be right to avoid a fall, too. It could make the babe come too early, before it’s ready.”

Kili couldn’t resist sliding his eyes towards me. “Told you,” he said through a mouthful of cake. He regarded the piece in his hand, nodding. “Good, these.”

“Thanks,” Ysola nodded, her eyes full of knowing laughter. “You be the one to talk her off her horse, eh? Won’t hurt you to be afoot for a month or so, Tauriel, and it’ll keep your babe safe. Yes?”

“Yes,” I agreed. Despite feeling our child within me for so long, it seemed different now, because it had grown enough that it would take precedence over my likes and dislikes. “Afoot I shall go. Or perhaps I should have you wheel me around in a barrow, Kili.”

He winked at me. “If you need me to, _amrâlimê_ , I will. Without hesitation.”

“All right,” Ysola said, when we’d stopped laughing. “You come see me next week and again the week after. Then I’ll come see you twice the third week. Then I’ll come every day starting the fourth week. If you start your labor, you send for me no matter what time it is, and I’ll come to stay until it’s done.”

We negotiated a price for Ysola’s aid, which wasn’t in the coin I’d expected. She wanted a plow mended, and some tools smithed, which Kili was very willing to do. We set a day for him to come down for the work, thanked Ysola for her cakes and tea, then Kili and I set off for home.

“It’s happening,” Kili said, grinning. He looked up at the sky, then at me with the brightest light in his dark eyes. “A year after we made it, the bairn’s coming. I can hardly believe it.”

I loved to see him so happy. “Have you thought of a name, _a’maelamin_?”

Kili’s expression was startled. “I haven’t, have I? Have you?”

“A few.”

“Have you? Can you tell if we need a name for a lad or a lass?”

“I won’t know until you do, when our child arrives. Which do you want?”

Kili hummed. “I want you and our child to be safe and healthy, that’s all. Lad or lass makes no difference to me. Either one will be a jewel.”

He stopped in the path, catching my hand. “The Quenya word for jewel of a daughter is _M_ _íriel_. That’d be a good name for a lass.”

“I like that. But if it’s a lad, what’s the _Khazuduhl_ word for jewel?”

“ _Izril_.”

“Then that’s what we’ll name our child. _M_ _íriel_ for a daughter, and _Izril_ for a son.”

Kili put out his hand. “Done.”

I slapped it to seal the pact. “Done.”

Kili’s arm slipped around my waist as we resumed our walk home. Maybe he thought I didn’t notice, but he smiled all the way home. So did I.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the big day, in honor of Mother's Day here in the States.
> 
> Hiasha, we're thinking of you!

The next few weeks flew by for Tauriel and me. My _amrâlimê_ might not be riding on patrol with the guard, but she was still on duty, working with Oteriel to manage the defense of the city, training, and so on. She liked her new duties and was busier than ever as one of Oteriel’s strategists. I was busy at the forge with my jewelry and blade commissions, as well as the work I did to support Rivendell. I rode patrol duty more often to help cover Tauriel’s absence. And both of us worked at home to ready our home for our bairn. There were no cradles in the city to scavenge, but I had enough woodworking skills that Tauriel and I built a simple one together. Fallin and Tethrandil did a bit of carving on it, and Drennal and Silvinnad added some cushions and coverlets and such, so it was well outfitted. Giriel’s mother was a weaver, and she had friends to make us some of the small gowns and such that bairns wore – such tiny clothing! When we were at home, someone was always stopping in to visit, leave us a gift, or offer help when our bairn finally arrived. It all went by in a wonderful blur.

Ysola came to us now, because Tauriel’s belly had finally blossomed to an alarming degree. My _amrâlimê_ was unconcerned; she still moved gracefully despite her size, felt no discomfort, and walked each day with me down to the armory. Ysola was satisfied that all was well, so this was likely the naïve concern of a Dwarf lad about to become a father for the first time. When I was objective about it, Tauriel wasn’t as immense as Women or Dwarf maids got, by any means. But she was normally so slender, and to see the middle of her so changed sometimes made me worry about the bairn’s delivery, and sometimes made me marvel that we’d dared this in the first place.

Of course, we hadn’t even thought to make a child in the first place. We’d been smitten with each other to the flagrant disregard of all else. I was still smitten, but I was also in awe, too. Tauriel had given me so much – she was the daring one, to my mind. I was the lucky one.

As I saw to the tea and biscuits for Ysola’s usual visit, I heard Tauriel open the door for the woman herself. They came into our warm kitchen to sit at the table as we usually did. The midwife did her usual careful, unhurried examination of Tauriel while I fished the pan of biscuits out of the oven, got the butter crock and jam pot, and collected the teacups. I kept a casual eye on the proceedings, reassured at Ysola’s competence and easy manner.

“I give you a week, maybe less,” was her calm pronouncement.

I paused, casting a look at Tauriel, whose eyes had already sought mine. Was it finally happening? After thirteen long months, would our bairn finally be in our arms in a week?

Ysola grinned to see our expressions. “You look like everyone else about to welcome a babe,” was her pronouncement. “Pole axed.”

Tauriel snickered. “You do, Kili. You looked stunned.”

“I am. I admit it. You ought to, too, because you look just as stunned, don’t you? How can you tell, Ysola?”

“Babe’s dropped down some. Can you tell, Tauriel? Getting ready to make its way out.”

Tauriel stood up, her hands on her belly. “A little. Not very much. Can you tell, Kili?”

I shook my head. “You look the same to me.”

“You’ll be able to tell before long,” Ysola assured me. “When you can, you won’t have much longer to wait. Make some extra stews or pies so you’ll have them to spare. Then you won’t have to cook for a few days. You’ll both be tired when the babe comes. They don’t sleep much at first.”

I’d been so excited about our bairn’s coming birth that I’d forgotten the sleepless few weeks that followed, but right now, I didn’t care about that. If the bairn and Tauriel were both healthy, then missing sleep didn’t seem so bad.

“You know how to tell when the babe be ready to come, Tauriel. It drops real low. You feel heavy in your hips, and achy. Your muscles start to contract to push the babe, and the bearing sac breaks somewhere along the way. When you feel just one contraction, wait. If no more, then you still have a ways to go. When you feel contractions come one after another, or if the bearing sac breaks, then walk to ease it, and you send for Parrinon and me both. I know birthing; he knows Elves. Better to send for us early than late. You two be something new, so we’ll be careful.”

Tauriel nodded, smiling faintly to herself. My expression, however, was surely one of the sappy ones Fili would have ribbed me about. I wished he were still here to do it, for he’d also be the first one to insist on holding the bairn. What an uncle he would have been!

After Ysola’s visit, I kept careful watch on Tauriel, trying to tell when the bairn dropped lower, but it must be a subtle thing, for I didn’t see it. Still, I knew the bairn was making ready, for Tauriel became very quiet. She was still her sweet self, but her attention was focused inward. It was like watching a seer I’d seen in a market fair once, divining the omens from a handful of knucklebones for whoever paid a penny. I didn’t know if the seer’s skill had been a ruse to entice pennies from the unwary or not, but Tauriel’s focus was no ruse.

The morning came when I wandered into the kitchen for breakfast, grabbed a cold biscuit, and chewed it on my way into the sitting room. Tauriel sat by the fire, rubbing her belly slowly.

“Good morning, _amrâlimê_ ,” I murmured, stooping beside her chair to kiss her and touch her belly. “Warm enough? I’ll stoke the fire for you before I head off for the forge. A light day, so I’ll be home for luncheon, I expect.”

She smiled as I went to put a few more sticks on the fire. “I think you should tell them not to expect you today, _a’maelamin_.”

I stilled, the sticks halfway to the fireplace.

Tauriel had cocked her head as if she were listening. “I think I felt a contraction. I think that’s what it was. A... flexing in my back. I’m waiting to see if it happens again.” Her gaze settled on me. “We can wait together while you make your breakfast.”

“Do you want anything? Tea? An egg cooked soft? Toast with butter?”

She smiled at my anxious questions. “Tea would be nice. If I’m about to bear our child, I don’t think eating is wise.”

I hummed. “Oh. Yes, you’re right, of course. What sort of tea? Some of that raspberry leaf stuff that Ysola brought?”

Tauriel mugged, as did I. Neither of us liked the taste at all, but it was supposed to ease the bairn’s way out, so Tauriel had dutifully drunk it for the last week. “I suppose so. Maybe today is the last day I’ll have to drink it. It’s too.... something.”

“Un-tea-like,” I supplied. “Like drinking hot ale, or cold toddies, or some such travesty. Maybe it’d be better cold.”

“It’s not. I put some out in the garden overnight to drink it the next morning, and it was still awful. Like flat, too sweet wine, only worse.”

“Ugh. All right, hot raspberry leaf swill, it is. I’ll bring it to you.”

“I’ll sit in the kitchen while you eat. I like watching you potter about. You sing as you cook, too. It’s quite nice.”

I snickered. “Mostly I sing Dwarvish drinking songs, _amrâlimê_. Quite rude.”

Tauriel grinned impishly. “The one I like best goes, ‘There once was the clumsiest Orc, who skewered himself in the –’ ”

“That’s far enough,” I winced. “I know how it goes, and I’m appalled that you do, too.”

“No, you aren’t. If you were, you’d sing in _Khazuduhl_ , instead of the Common Tongue, so I wouldn’t know what the words are.”

Found out, I shook my head and snickered at her irreverence. I scrambled a lot of eggs, added cheese and diced onion, warmed the leftover biscuits, and brought it with Tauriel’s tea to the table. She watched me work steadily through my breakfast for several moments, then her face stilled into that listening expression again.

“Another flexing in your back?”

She nodded.

“If it happens again, I’m rousting the Orc Spawn to go around to the forge, and to fetch Ysola and Parrinon.”

“I’ll be fine if you want to go yourself.”

“Maybe you will, but I won’t. You’re about to bear a Dwarf’s bairn, and it’s your first one, besides, so I’m not leaving you alone. The Spawn have it all arranged, anyway. I nip over to Giriel, then we roust Fallin and Rhiannel. Giriel goes to Ysola, Fallin takes the forge, Rhiannel finds Parrinon, and I haul my arse back here.”

When Tauriel’s chuckle was cut short by that listening expression, she put her hands on her belly. “If that’s the way it is, then, I think you’d better find Giriel.”

I crammed half a biscuit in my mouth. “On my way.”

I don’t remember opening our front door or sprinting across the common courtyard, but however I did it, Giriel came yawning to her door in answer to my pounding. I didn’t get to say anything before her eyes widened.

“Tauriel?”

“Tauriel,” I nodded. “I’ll get Rhiannel. You get Fallin. And when you find Ysola, tell her the contractions have started.”

Giriel was already pulling on her boots and coat. She ran out with me, and we split long enough to roust our two friends. I didn’t get to say anything to them, either. In two moments, three Elves dashed down the street and I dashed home. Tauriel was still sitting in the kitchen, her tea half drunk. I grabbed the last biscuit, crammed it in my mouth whole, and snatched up the dishes to throw them in the washbasin. Tauriel watched this in amazement, finally rising carefully to put her hand on my arm as I rushed around.

“We have a while, Kili. It may be a long while. You don’t have to rush. And you don’t have to worry about the dishes, either. Be easy, _a’maelamin_.”

I took a deep breath, and took Tauriel’s shoulders in my hands. “I’m supposed to tell you that.”

Her chuckle was soft. “I expect we’ll both have ample chances to remind each other of that today.”

“True. So, more tea?”

“My coat.”

“Your coat? What for?”

“I’m supposed to walk. So walk I shall, up and down the street.”

“What, and tell everyone that our bairn is on the way?”

She rolled her eyes and went to fetch her coat herself. “I expect that the word has already spread.”

Indeed, no sooner had we opened the door than we discovered three or four Elves hastening towards us. Tauriel looked at me wryly.

“You were right,” I exhaled, shutting the door. I offered her my arm. “Shall we walk, then, _amrâlimê_?”

“We shall, _a’maelamin_.”

We proceeded down the street, nodding a casual greeting to the Elves, all of them friends from the guard.

“Tauriel! Kili! Rhiannel said that your babe is on the way!”

“Not yet,” Tauriel demurred. “It may take a very long time. So we are taking a walk beforehand.”

We ambled by slowly, Tauriel looking calm despite her bulk, leaving the Elves to gape. I squeezed her hand in appreciation for her bravado. When we were out of earshot, I glanced up at her. “I know you like being the center of attention, Tauriel, but please don’t drop here in the street. It’s too cold for the bairn. You’ll just have to let your worshippers hear about it secondhand, rather than watching it for themselves.”

Tauriel gave me an incredulous look, then started to laugh. “The cheek of Dwarves knows no bounds. Dropping our babe in the street? What kind of father are you? You’re supposed to catch it before it touches the path, of course.”

It was my turn to laugh. “I’m short, but not short enough to crawl under you here on the path. If you want to drop out here, you’ll have to perch on the lip of the fountain to give me room.”

Both of us were laughing now, which further consternated the Elves gathering nearby. There were seven of them now. Tauriel’s laughter got breathy as another contraction started, but she kept walking sedately beside me. “Perhaps it would be best to drop inside, then. Warmer for our babe, and more room for you to catch it.”

“If you can console yourself to such a lack of spectacle, _amrâlimê_.”

“If you can, I suppose I can, as well,” she said dryly.

I sighed loudly, feigning reluctance, and held out my hand. “Done, I suppose.”

Tauriel laid her palm atop mine. It was a tender gesture, rather than the usual slap to accept a bet or a bargain. “Done.”

We kept walking arm in arm, until Rhiannel appeared with Parrinon in tow. Shortly thereafter, Fallin arrived with Giriel and Ysola. The Elves were incredulous to find Tauriel and me placidly walking around the courtyard, but Ysola’s laugh was hearty.

“Good for you!” she called, waving. She looked around at the gathering Elves, and held her hands up in amusement. “Perhaps I should send for one of my daughters. She’d make a good day’s wages selling shortbread and pastries on your street today.”

I turned to Tauriel. “See? You’ll have your spectacle after all. A right street fair.”

Tauriel rolled her eyes at me. “It’s not my spectacle, Kili. It’s yours. I’m just the draw.”

Her eyes unfocused again, and this time she paused a few seconds before moving on.

“All right, Tauriel?” I murmured, as Ysola and Parrinon came up.

“Stronger. But still all right.”

Ysola nodded. “You keep walking, then. Parrinon and I will make things ready inside for you. Walk another few moments, then you be ready to come inside. You,” she pointed her chin at me, “see to it that she stays easy. No dancing, acrobatics, horse riding, or such lot. Yes?”

I bowed to her, but spared my wife a wink. “I’ll do my best, Ysola. But Tauriel’s a spirited maid, so it may be hard.”

Resigned to our teasing, Tauriel tightened her hold on my arm. “Keep walking, Kili. It’s the only way to keep you calm.”

As Parrinon and Ysola vanished into our house, the Orc Spawn went into the second part of our plan. We’d expected Tauriel’s birthing to provide the day’s entertainment, so our closest friends circled around the gathering crowd, chatting and distracting so that Tauriel and I could walk undisturbed. We made it up and down the street a few more times, before Tauriel’s contractions grew strong enough that she had to hold still until they passed.

“Time to go in, _amrâlimê_?” My hand tightened on her arm.

Her hand tightened in response. “Yes.”

“All right. We’re two houses away from our front door. You can walk that far, or I can carry you if you’d like.”

“I’m a bit weighty, Kili.”

I snorted quietly. “I’m a Dwarf. You and sixteen bairns wouldn’t be too heavy.”

She laughed silently. “That’s comforting. But I believe I can reach the door on my own feet.”

“It would be a better spectacle if I carried you. You could moan a bit.”

“Can anything deter a Dwarf’s sense of the absurd?”

“I hope not. I have a reputation to uphold. There, we’re at the door now. Just smile and wave, then the spectacle’s over.”

Tauriel regarded me with an exasperated look, but she did smile and wave before we went inside, which got a cheer of good wishes. As the door shut, she put her hands on her back, arching a little. The next contraction came, and this time she bent over her belly with a grimace.

“Yes, that one hurt,” she said, as Ysola and Parrinon came out of the sitting room. After some seconds, Tauriel straightened, and I got her coat off. She sat on the bench for me to get her boots off. After I slipped a pair of warm socks over her slender bare feet, Parrinon beckoned to her.

“All right, now, Tauriel, we’ve got the sitting room fire going well, and everything’s ready for you. Kili will be close by while Ysola and I look after you.”

I looked up, startled. I wasn’t going to be with Tauriel as she bore our child? I had expected – but no, Dwarf maids threw the lads out of the house when a bairn came, and I suppose Men did, too, but did Elves –

“Kili won’t be with me?” Tauriel’s voice rose as they led her into the sitting room. “Why not?”

“It isn’t something a Man sees,” Ysola began.

“Or an Elf lad,” Parrinon agreed. “Kili will be just outside.”

“Kili?” Tauriel’s eyes widened as the Elf apothecary started to close the door. She shoved past him to come to me. “I thought –”

“So did I.” I took her hands. “I want to be with you.”

“But it’s liable to be bloody –”

“I’ve seen blood and death,” I snapped at Parrinon, my eyes for Tauriel alone. “More than I’ve wanted. Today, I’m going to see life. If Tauriel wants me with her, then I’m with her.”

“I want you with me.”

“Then here I am.”

As Tauriel drew me into the sitting room, I was rewarded with her relieved smile.

The next few hours went by slowly as Tauriel’s contractions steadily increased. I didn’t do much other than hold her hand, or stroke her limbs to ease her, or offer her tiny sips of water. I sang a bawdy song or six or eight, which scandalized Parrinon, made Ysola laugh, and helped Tauriel relax. That was the key, to do whatever I could to keep Tauriel as relaxed as possible. Her contractions were long, hard, and exhausting, proving how much work birthing a bairn was. Even at the forge, I don’t recall ever exerting so much physical effort. As the day wore on, Tauriel spent more time resting in the special chair Ysola had carted up to our house a week ago. But as dusk grew near, it was time to push. Tauriel squatted on the floor, and after several terrifying moments that included a lot of the screaming that I’d heard about, she gave an agonizing heave.

“That’s right,” Ysola urged Tauriel, kneeling beside her to look for the babe. “Keep pushing, Tauriel! I can see the babe’s head. Come on, lass, one more hard push! Kili, put your hands out! The babe’s coming!”

Tauriel mustered her strength, groping for my shoulders. “Kili?”

I was on my knees in front of her, with her hands on my shoulders to steady herself. “I’m here, Tauriel. You’re almost done. Push hard, _amrâlimê_! Hard!”

I will never forget that moment when Tauriel pushed. The effort was intense, impossible. Her belly suddenly rippled, and the bairn slithered out between her legs in a sight like nothing else. Ysola and Parrinon were to either side of Tauriel, supporting her, so I caught the poor, squashed mite before it touched the padding on the floor. It was a purple, misshapen mass, shuddering and covered in blood and a strange white stickiness. I cradled it against me, wrapping the tails of my tunic around it.

“Míriel or Izril?” Tauriel’s screams had left her too hoarse to speak in anything other than a rasp.

I unwrapped the bairn to look, then wrapped her back in my shirt to hold her up for Tauriel to see. “It’s Míriel, _amrâlimê_. Our daughter is here.”

Tauriel’s exhausted face waxed in a wide smile as Ysola and Parrinon took her weight. “Míriel. It’s Míriel.”

“I caught her before she touched the ground, so I guess you didn’t need to stand on the fountain after all,” I grinned.

Tauriel’s laugh was weak, but glad. “You really are irrepressible.”

“All right, let us get the afterbirth, then we’ll get mam and babe cleaned up,” Ysola shooed me back.

Obediently, I slid out of the way with the bairn cradled in my arms so Parrinon and Ysola had room to tend Tauriel. She was a right mess as she kneeled on the birthing pad, and if I hadn’t seen how she’d gotten that way, I would’ve been appalled at all the blood splotching her pale, pale skin. But as Parrinon worked with Ysola to deliver the birthing sac, he assured me that Tauriel had bled no more than expected and was in no danger. Tauriel was able to sit back to watch Ysola cut the birthing cord and tie it off with thread.

Now that the birth was over, Parrinon excused himself to the kitchen while Ysola helped Tauriel into the bathing chamber. I trailed along behind with Míriel. Tauriel wouldn’t be able to get in a full tub until she’d healed inside, but she could stand in it while the midwife sponged her clean and helped her dry. She eased on the soft gown and such that we’d put out for her, so she soon looked herself again, if exhausted.

It was Míriel’s turn. Ysola held her in the tails of my shirt while I wiggled out of the sleeves, then the midwife laid the bairn on the floor by Tauriel’s chair. As Tauriel and I watched, she used a soapy sponge to carefully swab Míriel clean. Ysola dried our daughter deftly with a soft towel, expertly fitted her with a diaper, and slipped one of the little gowns on. With Ysola’s coaching, I lifted Míriel carefully into Tauriel’s waiting arms. She cuddled the bairn close, sliding the front of her gown aside so Míriel could find her breast. Our daughter nuzzled, found Tauriel’s nipple, and settled in.

“Look at that,” I said, touching Míriel’s head gently. “How does she know what to do? She’s eating right off.”

Ysola’s laugh was soft. “The Valar tell ‘em, I hazard. Now, we’ll let her have her fill, then we’ll settle you. I’ll set the sitting room straight. No use hoping Parrinon’s done it. Men never have the first idea about what clean means.”

She left the bathing chamber with a smile. I met Tauriel’s eyes, not surprised to see the same wonder in them that I felt.

“She’s got your dark hair,” Tauriel murmured, stroking the black fluff on Míriel’s head. Then she giggled. “Your appetite, too.”

“She’s perfect, Tauriel.”

“She is.”

I kissed Tauriel’s cheek. “This was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. Though I’m sorry you had to work so hard.”

Tauriel shook her head. “It _was_ the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But looking at her, it doesn’t matter.”

Ysola called out, saying that the sitting room was back to being a sitting room, so I called back an acknowledgement. “You’ll be more comfortable there than on this hard bath chair, so when Míriel’s done, I’ll help you up.”

“That would be welcome. Then I want you to help me redo my hair.”

“Of course.”

“And I want my coat. I’ll need it to show Míriel to our friends.”

“What, you’re going outside to show off our bairn?” I laughed.

“I most certainly am. You’re going, too. Our friends have waited a long time, and they should get to see Míriel for their trouble.”

“I thought you didn’t like spectacle, Tauriel, and here you are, embracing it.”

“This isn’t spectacle. This is magic.”

What could I say in the face of that? Nothing. So I took my magical wife into the sitting room. I braided her hair while Míriel suckled. When Míriel was full and sleepily dozing, I brought Tauriel her coat.

Then we paraded gently around the courtyard with Míriel for our friends. It was a joyous end to a long but joyous day.

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Here's a little angst to leaven all the sweetness currently surrounding our intrepid couple in idyllic Imladris. Hope you enjoy it.

_The red-haired she-Elf wasn’t on patrol again. Snaga hadn’t seen her for weeks. Where was she? Maybe dead? He hoped so. Cursed Elves had killed enough of his kind._

_The tall Dwarf, though, rode by Snaga’s scouting positions more times than not, sitting easily on his tall horse with his bow and blades to hand. He’d been out more frequently in the past few weeks. Snaga didn’t know whether to curse the wretch, or thank him._

_As long as he was on patrol, Snaga had to stay on watch, curse him._

_Then again, if he hadn’t been on patrol, Snaga would have had to leave the plain and ride north again to Gundebad. For sparing him that terror, Snaga thanked the tall Dwarf._

 

* * *

 

Míriel’s arrival changed everything. Kili and I had this tiny, tiny Elfling-Dwarfling who reduced both of us to mooning over her just by waving her small fist. She had the most adorable ears, delicately pointed and tinted the palest pink, that begged for kisses. Her eyes were blue like small flowers, though Ysola told us that all babies were born with blue eyes, and that they might soon change color. Her dark hair was fuzzy, and mostly in a strip from forehead to nape – Kili laughed, saying that the surly Dwalin would love her, because Dwalin had had a similar hairstyle before he went bald. She got the most contented look on her face when she was dry and fed, the most furious grimace when she needed a clean diaper, and the most abject look of desperation when she was hungry. The way Kili and I ran around to see to her would be laughable in any other house but ours. But who wouldn’t have fallen irreversibly in love with Míriel at first glance?

I might be slightly biased in that opinion, I admit.

 

* * *

 

I can’t describe well how Míriel’s arrival affected me. I’d eagerly looked forward to her birth, of course. I’d spent so many years reconciling myself to a solitary life, yet in just over a single year, I’d found Tauriel, my most cherished _amrâlimê_ ; I’d forged a lifelong bond with her; I’d survived a slaughter; and I’d found a new life I’d never imagined in Rivendell. I had watched Tauriel bring our bairn to term, and then I’d seen her endure the most arduous of ordeals to bring Míriel forth. That moment when Míriel had fallen into my hands... the moment before, she was part of Tauriel. In the next, she was her own self, and our family had grown to three. Tauriel came closest to describing it – this was true magic. Magic.

Yet... to feel that uncontrollable swell of love in my heart, to see that same unconditional love transfigure Tauriel’s face when she put Míriel to her breast and the mite settled into her new life... I thought of _Maamr_. She’d felt this way when Fili had been born, I was sure of it. She’d felt this way when I’d been born, too. I imagined how I would feel if Míriel died, and the anguish threatened to bring me to my knees. I hadn’t been able to stop Fili’s death, or Uncle Thorin’s, and so _Maamr_ had had to endure their loss as I had. But she’d endured the pain of thinking I was dead, too, because I hadn’t thought of a way to spare her. Yes, it had been right to defer the crown to Dain. I had never doubted that. But to subject my mother to such agony...

I tried to remember anything that Uncle Thorin or Fili had said about abdication – formally stepping aside in favor of Dain – but neither of them had ever spoken of it. Uncle Thorin never would have – he had been too firmly set on the road to kingship before the firedrake had come, and losing Erebor had further settled the mantle on his shoulders. Fili? If he’d lived past Erebor, he would’ve taken the kingship as his duty. He hadn’t wanted to be king, but he was the better of the two of us to be a good one. He’d also been the dutiful one, and likely would never have considered abdicating, especially knowing how I felt about the job.

I had a sinking feeling that the only acceptable form of Dwarvish abdication was dying. I’d already accomplished that as far as my folk cared. So I circled around again, guiltily deciding that I’d found the best solution for everyone... except _Maamr_. Every time I looked at Tauriel, so bedazzled by our little daughter, my guilt grew for the pain I’d caused the Dwarf maid who’d looked at me with that same besotted expression.

Welnarrin had spoken of the ore shipments that Imladris received from the Iron Hills. I’d made casual inquiries, and confirmed that those who brought the ore were Dwarves. It was a certainty that someone speaking to the Iron Hills Dwarves would mention the Dwarvish smith that now resided in Imladris, and equally certain that the Iron Hills Dwarves would want to speak with me. Could I, without giving myself away? I had never been to the Iron Hills, but I had spoken to Dain in the battle. There weren’t many Dwarves who looked like me, and he’d be quick to put two and two together as to who the Dwarf in Imladris was. So speaking to the Dwarves directly was out.

I let the subject lie. A few days before the ore was to arrive, though, I overheard the smith who usually oversaw the transfer say that the Dwarves would arrive a day later than expected, and close to nightfall. That would be too late to unload the ore. Rivendell would put them up for the night in one of the guest suites so they could start unloading early the next morning. Welnarrin expected to stop in to greet them once they were settled.

Maybe it wasn’t prudent for me to meet the Iron Hills Dwarves in person, but there were other ways to find out what I wanted to know.

I made it my business to work at the forge the day the Dwarves arrived, and I knew when Welnarrin planned to greet them. I left the forge a while before he did, and spent a while loitering well away from both home and the guest suites until full dark fell. I’d worn a dark tunic and coat with my work pants and boots, so when I headed stealthily for the guest suites I was well able to blend into the shadows. I had no trouble finding the Dwarves; they sounded about as raucous as Uncle Thorin’s company had when we’d arrived in Rivendell. After the so-called banquet the Elves had given us, we’d gone back to our suite, broken up a lot of the furniture for a fire, and made ourselves a fit supper with sausages and Bombur’s stew. There had been a lot of laughing, eating, drinking, smoking, and joking, all of it loud. Tonight, all I had to do was follow the same racket, and find a shadow under the balcony to listen.

I was in luck; Welnarrin had just arrived, and was politely asking the news from the Iron Hills. There was a fair amount of that; trade had picked up considerably now that Erebor was back in the hands of my kinsmen. The Orcs were much diminished, but still a threat, but Dain was working with Thranduil and Bard to mitigate that.

I listened hungrily to the Dwarvish voices. I’d missed that sound more than I expected. I’d gotten used to living and working with Elves, but to hear the roar of Dwarvish laughter, the racket of pranks being pulled, and much toasting and cheering of wine, I wanted to be in the middle of them. The pervasive smell of pipeweed was a forgotten pleasure, and the _Khazuduhl_ -accented Common Tongue made me homesick.

I kept still in my shadow.

Eventually, as I’d hoped, the Dwarves spoke of Erebor, and King Dain, and the progress of the reconstruction needed after sixty years of firedrake occupation. Apparently it would be years before the stench of Smaug’s shit faded out of some chambers, but his bones were already fading in the lake depths as water plants overgrew them. Families arrived every day to settle in Dale as well as Erebor itself, both from the Iron Hills and the Blue Mountains, but one notable exception to that was Thorin’s sister –

Thorin’s sister? That was my mother! I held both hands over my mouth to smother my gasp, and listened hard.

“Yah, Dís be her name. She was coregent with Thorin Oakenshield in the Blue Mountains, and sole leader there when Thorin was away. She made pilgrimage to Erebor, of course. She lost both her sons in the battle before Erebor as well as her brother, you know. Yah, yah, both crown princes, cut down by the Orcs. That’s how Dain came to rule, because the line of Durin ended in the battle. Quite a funeral ceremony after, it was, with three to bury. Dain asked Dís to stay, but the way I hear it, she stayed only long enough to see her kin buried, and to coordinate with Dain about all the Dwarves moving to Erebor. Then she took herself back to the Blue Mountains. Said seeing Erebor again was too upsetting, it was, and she didn’t want to settle in the place that had cost so many of her kin their lives. Yah, yah, I understand the maid’s feelings. Yah, she lost kin to the firedrake, but even more to those damned vermin Orcs...”

I stayed another long while, until Welnarrin was long retired and even the Dwarves were starting to fall asleep. I didn’t hear anything useful, but once Welnarrin had gone, the language lapsed into _Khazuduhl_ , and I savored the sound of my race’s secret language I hadn’t heard for over a year. In time, I slipped away, and slowly headed home.

When a lad’s wife is an Elf, there’s never a chance to sneak into the house after a late night out, because she’s always awake to hear the door open. At the same time, though, there’s always a ready ear to listen to a lad’s troubles. I didn’t want to sneak in, but I did want that ready ear. So when I closed the door behind me, I went out into the garden to find my _amrâlimê_.

Tauriel was on the settee as I expected, with little Míriel cuddled against her chest, under her coat and with a blanket bundled around her. She held her hand out to me in welcome.

“You’re back late,” she said, after we’d kissed. Her voice was soft so as not to disturb Míriel, but its concern was clear.

“I am. I’m sorry if I worried you. How is our little bairn?”

Tauriel’s smile was plain even in the dark. “She is well. She looks so wise, as if she contemplates the stars, even though she can’t see them yet.”

“Our little Elfling,” I smiled. “And how is my sweet _amrâlimê_?”

“I am well, also. But you, _a’maelamin_... something weighs on you.”

I sighed. “It does.”

“Are you hungry?”

I shook my head. “I’d like a glass of wine, that’s all. Can I get you one, too?”

Tauriel cradled Míriel as she rose. “Yes. Let’s settle in the sitting room. The fire’s still warm.”

“I’d like that.”

We went inside. I shed my coat, helped Tauriel remove hers without disturbing Míriel, then fetched the wine and some glasses while she went into the sitting room with our bairn. I stirred up the fire, and held my arms out.

“Let me hold her for a while. You pour.”

Tauriel passed me the bairn, and I arranged her on my chest to sit down. She knew the difference between her parents even after such a short time, and she stared up at me interestedly, even smiling and waving her hands. I sat her up on my belly to make faces at her and make squeaky noises. She liked that, cooing back at me, which drew Tauriel’s chuckle. She held out my glass, tipping it a bit so I could have a swallow without letting Míriel go.

“Mmm. Good,” I exhaled as Tauriel sat next to me. She sipped her own glass, shifting so she could see me better. It was good to savor those few moments, playing with my daughter, close to my wife...

“What saddens you, Kili?” Tauriel asked softly. “Is being a father weighing on you more than you expected, or perhaps I am –”

“Everything’s perfect, Tauriel. So, so perfect. I love being Míriel’s father, and your husband, your _a’maelamin_ , your _amrâlimê_. I love being in Imladris, in the guard, at the forge. I never expected to be so happy. I never want any other life than this one, here, with you, with Míriel.”

“Then what troubles you?”

I sighed. “This will sound awful. But every time you look at Míriel, you’re so in love with her.”

Tauriel looked shocked – hurt, as well as upset. I hastened to reassure her.

“I’m not jealous, Tauriel, I’m not! I look at her the same way you do, don’t I? She’s our magical bairn, and I love her as much as you do, and I love you for loving her so much.”

Tauriel’s expression calmed, but she searched my face, trying to understand my distress. “Then tell me, _a’maelamin_ , why the way I look at Míriel distresses you.”

I swallowed hard, but nodded. “When I see you, I know my mother looked at me in the same unconditional way when I was a bairn. Fili, too. Then I think about how terrible, how devastated I’d feel if Míriel were taken from me. Yet that’s what I’ve done to my _Maamr_. For more than a year, while I’ve made this impossibly wonderful life with you and now Míriel, I’ve made my mother bear the loss of Uncle Thorin and Fili alone, and then my loss on top of it. I feel so guilty for making her bear all that.”

Tauriel hummed in commiseration. “I understand why this preys on you.”

I nodded miserably. “It’s always preyed on me, ever since Ravenhill. It’s the one thing I can’t work out, Tauriel. I made the right decision not to go to Erebor, because with Uncle Thorin and Fili gone, I’d be king, and you know I never wanted that. Even if I did, I’d be terrible at it, and Erebor’s in much better hands with Dain as king. So this is better for my folk, better for Erebor, better for me. The only one it’s not better for is _Maamr_. I haven’t thought of any way to let her know I’m alive without stirring up everything else. A letter could be intercepted. Trusting another Dwarf to tell her in person means one more person knows who I am, and too many people already know. Bilbo, Gandalf, Lord Elrond, probably Lindir, Oteriel, and the Valar know how many others.”

“I think all of those you named can be trusted to be discreet,” Tauriel offered.

I jiggled Míriel on my thighs, getting a smile from her, but I couldn’t smile back. “I’d say so. But I’m not going out of my way to tell anyone else.”

Tauriel’s hand was on my arm for comfort. “And... does this have something to do with why you are home so late tonight?”

I nodded. “Imladris gets its iron ore for the forge from the Dwarves of the Iron Hills. A shipment came in today too late to be transferred before dark, so the Dwarves are in one of the guest suites, raising the same ruckus Uncle Thorin’s company did when we came. When Welnarrin greeted them, I was hiding in the shrubbery, listening. They said my mother had been to Erebor to pay respects to Uncle Thorin and Fili... and me... but couldn’t bear to stay, and went back to the Blue Mountains.”

Tauriel sipped her wine quietly. “You didn’t talk to the Dwarves yourself because you feared they’d recognize you, or carry word back of the Dwarf smith in Imladris.”

I nodded.

“Your people have no ceremony to remove kingship from one and confer it on another?”

I nodded again. “I’m not sure, but I think the only way to abdicate is to die. I’ve come as close to that as I want, thank you very much.”

If Tauriel thought I didn’t see her take a deep breath before she sipped her wine, she was wrong. Her next words, then, either worried her, or led to something she didn’t like.

“If your mother is not in Erebor, but has returned to the Blue Mountains, what does that change?”

I shook my head.

Tauriel was not put off. “Kili, you are my chosen one. I don’t want you to be afraid to say anything to me. Please.”

I conceded with another uncomfortable swallow. “It’s six hundred miles from here to the Blue Mountains, all right? Twice as far as from here to Erebor. Even if I rode the fastest Elvish horse, it’d take me no less than four months to travel there and back – likely more. I’d miss so much of Míriel’s first year, and you, neither of which I can bear. Then there are still Orcs about, even though we haven’t seen any close to Imladris for weeks. If I managed to dodge them and whatever else lurks on the road and finally got to the Blue Mountains, I’d have to find a way to see _Maamr_ alone, and I’d have to swear her to secrecy, if she’d even speak to me after how I’ve let her suffer for the past year. If she does, then what? I make my apologies, then flit away to come back here, likely never to see her again? It’s no good, any way I look at it.”

“She would not come to Imladris, if you asked her?”

“Why would she? She’s a respected leader, a good guardian of our people, and they depend on her. There isn’t anything for her here.”

“You are here, Kili, and your child is here.”

“True enough, but my mother’s not the one to live her life through the lives of her kin. It’d be like asking Lord Elrond to go live in Lothlórien with his mother-in-law and daughter.”

Tauriel hummed in understanding, but she had no words to add.

“I’m sorry, _amrâlimê_. I’ve burdened you with something that you can’t do anything about, no more than I can.”

Tauriel slid closer to me, putting her arm around my shoulder to jostle me gently. “A problem shared is sometimes a problem eased. Take what ease you can from telling me, and put it aside for now. Nothing remains the same for long. Something may come that changes this, too.”

Míriel grabbed my index finger in both hands to gum it enthusiastically, drawing a smile from me. “Maybe it will, _amrâlimê_.”

She kissed my ear, and stroked my hair, offering the solace of her touch. I nestled into her embrace, tickled Míriel until she burbled, and tried not to think of anything else. Maybe Tauriel was right, and together we’d find a better solution than I had so far.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone. This is a short chapter, but a biggie. Tauriel is about to rock Kili's world.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the ride!

My heart ached to see and hear Kili’s distress over the pain he was sure he’d inflicted on his mother. Now that he’d confessed it, I realized that I’d seen signs of it since the battle at Ravenhill. I’d mistakenly attributed his sadness to losing his brother, or regret for giving up contact with his folk. If the situation were reversed, and I had gone with Kili to live in Erebor, perhaps I would have felt similarly not to be among Elves... or perhaps not. Kili’s folk had supported him in a way that mine had not. However, though my parents had died long ago, I remembered them, and now that I was mother to Míriel, I shared Kili’s sense of how badly his mother’s loss would be.

So... something had to be done, or Kili would bear this burden for all his life, and it would get heavier each time he looked at his daughter.

As far as Kili had thought this through, I agreed with his assessment. Still, the next day, while he was out on guard patrol, I had a look at Oteriel’s maps. It was six hundred miles to the Blue Mountains, as Kili had said. But it was three hundred and fifty miles to Bree along the East-West Road, then another fifty or so east to Hobbiton where Bilbo lived. Another one hundred and fifty miles east of Hobbiton lay the Grey Havens, where so many Elves sailed west to the Undying Lands. This route was well known in Imladris, given how many Elves had already sailed. The Blue Mountains were almost directly north and south of the Havens, and the cities of the Dwarves in the north were well known. From Bree west, the way was reasonably safe. So the most dangerous part would be from Rivendell along the East-West Road to Bree.

I let the idea mull for a day or so. In the mean time, I made inquiries, and read tomes in the library. I thought about some Elves traveling West to retreat, and others traveling West on a quest. I also thought about how one might go about luring a wise and respected Dwarf leader to a secret meeting.

I thought I knew what was needed to ease Kili’s mind, but I also thought that he’d argue hard against it despite his guilt. I thought about enlisting the Orc Spawn to make my case, because eventually I expected some of them to be involved. But that felt too much like an ambush to force Kili’s agreement of my proposal, so I didn’t speak to our guard cohorts yet. Instead, I waited until supper when Míriel was content to lie in her basket atop the dining room table where she could see us as we ate.

“You want to _what_?” Kili gasped, after I’d made my proposal. His supper sat forgotten before him. His eyebrows had vanished into his hair and his eyes gaped as wide as saucers. “You can’t drag the two of us and a bairn across six hundred miles during the end of winter on some mad chase after my mother!”

“No, I can’t,” I agreed calmly, sipping my wine.

“But – why – then – then... what?” he stuttered. Belatedly, he grabbed his goblet of ale and took a large gulp.

“You are a good son to your mother, and you want to ease her heart, if you can. I want you to ease your heart, so that it doesn’t wound you to look at me or Míriel or Imladris. Your mother will not come to us because she doesn’t know about us. So we must go to her, yes?”

“But it’s still the dead of winter, and –”

“So it is. I am not fully healed from bearing Míriel. We have made no plans or contingencies, either. So no one will race out of our front door tomorrow and flitter away to the Blue Mountains like a spring hare.”

Kili gaped at me, making me smile no matter how serious our discussion was. I nudged his ale closer to his hand.

“Have some more ale, _a’maelamin_.”

He took my request seriously enough to drain his glass. He was still speechless when he banged the goblet back down on the table, so I took advantage of the silence push my empty salad bowl into the center of the dining table. Around it, I arranged the saltcellar, my goblet, and Kili’s empty plate.

“What are you doing?” he said faintly.

“I’m drawing you a map,” I said crisply. “Look, Kili. My bowl is Imladris. The saltcellar is Bree. My goblet is Hobbiton. Your plate is the Grey Havens. Imladris to Bree to Hobbiton to the Havens is the route the Elves take when they plan to sail to the Undying Lands.”

“What’s this got to do with –”

I plucked his goblet from his hand and placed it on the table above his plate. “Your goblet, _a’maelamin_ , is the northern Blue Mountains.”

He looked at me, then at the dishes. “So you’re saying that the Elves know most of the way to the Blue Mountains, because they use the same route to go to the Grey Havens?”

“Yes. The stretch from here to Bree is the most uncertain. But from Bree westward, attacks are rare for watchful travelers. I think a party of four or five heavily armed Elves on horseback would fare well.”

Kili’s suspicion was patently open when he frowned at me. “And who are the two or three other heavily armed Elves on horseback, as if I can’t guess? Should I expect them to join us for dessert?”

I grinned. “I made only enough of Bilbo’s apple crumble for the two of us, _a’maelamin_. And I did think about asking Giriel, Fallin, and Rhiannel if they would like to go on an adventure. But I didn’t, because to be fair to our friends, they should know about your lineage, and that is not my secret to reveal. Also, I wanted you to have the choice to say no to this if you wanted to. But I don’t think you will rest well until you try to see your mother.”

“But Míriel is a bairn, Tauriel. A bairn on a six-hundred mile trek...”

I shrugged. “The journey would be easier while she is a babe, and content to lie swaddled while we travel as swiftly as we can. An older child would be much more difficult to restrain, and would slow us.”

“I’d still need to sleep, and Míriel would need changing and feeding –”

“We’d need a pack horse to carry tents and cooking supplies, one able to keep up with Elvish steeds, for that would keep the rest of us lightly weighted to save the horses. Míriel can feed in the saddle, as can we at midday, and she can be changed when we tend to necessities.”

“What about Orcs?” Kili challenged tersely.

“We have not seen any since the attack last summer. Not one. If any remain out there, we can leave at full light when they prefer to settle, and we will hide my hair, Míriel, and your stature. On Elvish steeds, we can push hard to cover the three hundred and fifty miles to Bree, which is the most dangerous part. After that we will not have to travel so swiftly, for it is safer to the west and Orcs do not go there. We could stop in Hobbiton to see Bilbo for a day or two of rest. Elves should not pillage his larder to the extent that Dwarvish companies do, so I would hope he would welcome us. Then we can either follow the Elvish route to the Havens and then north, or we can reverse the route your uncle’s company followed to reach Hobbiton from the Blue Mountains. I assume you can direct us to the right city to find your mother.”

Kili stared at me as if I’d lost my senses, but I returned his gaze equably.

“What about dealing with my mother? And once we’ve gone six hundred miles, we’d have another six hundred to go to get home.”

I nodded. “The trip back will need just as much care as the trip forward, yes. As for your mother, I can help you reach her, and I can help you persuade her to see you. What happens when the two of you meet is up to the two of you.”

Kili swallowed hard, and shook his head as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard this conversation well. “I think you’re absolutely mad.”

I gave him a mischievous smile. “And I thought you said your mother considered you reckless.”

“This isn’t funny, Tauriel!” Kili insisted. “You think I should try to tell my mother I’m alive, but the way you want to do that risks you and our daughter. I can’t do that!”

“Nothing is sure, Kili,” I took his hand. “I do not take the risks of traveling so far lightly. But if we don’t go now, the journey becomes harder the more time that passes. Míriel will grow, and I hope we have more children after her. The Orcs are in disarray now, but they will regain their strength before many years pass. By then, our friends may find reasons to pass up such an adventure. We might be able to travel with Elves who seek the Havens, but they will not want to travel at the speed we will, and we will not have them with us on the return journey. Your mother’s situation may change by then. And it means she suffers longer not knowing the truth, and so do you.”

My husband sat back, still coming to grips with a seemingly mad wife. I rose, fetched our apple crumble from the kitchen, and returned with it to the dining room. I spooned out a small portion for myself, and passed the dish to Kili for him to help himself. But he remained still, looking at me.

“Master Dwalin would find no fault with your strategy. You’re as ruthless as he is.”

I sighed. “I work with what is, Kili, not what I would prefer. Some situations do not come with an ideal solution. This one does not. But it does offer some acceptable ones, and worse ones. You must decide which is which.”

“You’re leaving this up to me?”

“Not entirely,” I replied. “I would agree to go on several conditions: I am healed from Míriel’s birth; spring must be on its way; we must find at least three Elves to go with us; we must find the right horses; and we must agree that safety, speed, and stealth are our priority. Oh, and one more.”

“What’s that?”

“We must return to Imladris. To our life here, together, with Míriel, the guard, the forge... to this wonderful life we have.”

“What if we just don’t leave it in the first place?” Kili shot back. His turmoil didn’t anger me, but he rubbed his forehead, wincing, then held up his hand in apology. “I’m sorry, Tauriel. I’m not angry with you. It’s just that... you’ve taken my breath quite away.”

“I understand, _a’maelamin_. I offer this only because your sadness saddens me, and I want to ease you. Think on it for a while. We have time before conditions force our hand.”

Kili nodded, took a deep breath, and tried to smile, so I made no more mention of a pilgrimage to the Blue Mountains. But my _a’maelamin_ was upset, because he didn’t touch the apple crumble.

 

* * *

 

Not for the first time, I realized why Tauriel had been King Thranduil’s captain of the guard for so long, and why she was now one of Master Oteriel’s key strategists. She’d begun with the guilty musings of a young Dwarf, weighed the current position of our enemies, mined the Elvish propensity for withdrawal for supporting information, assessed road conditions, determined traveling logistics, and then devised both strategy and tactics for a successful journey. She’d done it all with as much calculation and dispassion as Dwalin had drilled into me over and over again. Then she’d stared at all the options without a blink, which was more than I could do.

I didn’t fear for Tauriel as a warrior, or myself, or any of the Orc Spawn who might chose to accompany us on such a mad venture. It was Míriel that I worried about. My bairn. My only bairn. My daughter. She could sicken. She could be hurt. If Orcs found us, they’d show her no mercy. A thousand fears plagued me so much that I didn’t sleep that night, despite Tauriel’s attentions. I was too new a father to want to risk her to anything.

So I told myself that Tauriel’s dose of reality was just what I needed to convince me that no matter how guilty I felt about _Maamr_ , it was the price of my child’s life.

Of course, I could still go myself, and let Tauriel and Míriel stay in Imladris...

I was too new a father to want that, either. And if something happened to me, then I left Tauriel to fade and Míriel to face life without either of her parents, just like Tauriel had had to do.

So, again, I was back full circle, and again, _Maamr_ bore the cost.

Despite that resolution, Tauriel’s proposal nagged at me for days. Where I’d mooned about the dilemma, she’d put hard facts to it, so now I knew what was involved to make this journey.

Despite myself, I thought about it. How far could an Elvish steed go in a day? Their endurance and spirit were unmatched anywhere in the world. It had taken Uncle Thorin’s company roughly forty days to travel from Bilbo’s home to Imladris, and most of that was on slow but steady ponies. After we’d lost our ponies to trolls, we’d had to walk. Orcs hadn’t harried us until we’d gotten close to Imladris, so we’d walked steadily but not swiftly. Could an Elvish steed do the distance in half the time? Twenty miles a day, perhaps? That would put us in Bree in about two and a half, maybe three, weeks. Hobbiton would be three days farther, and the Blue Mountains would take another six or seven. Roughly four or five weeks, assuming ideal conditions, sound horses, no Orcs, no bandits, no trouble.

Completely unrealistic. Entirely too risky.

But... Tauriel was right about journeying now, or maybe never. We both wanted another child in time, and the more Míriel grew, the less likely it would be to travel with her.

What was the right thing to do?

The right thing for Míriel was certainly the wrong thing for _Maamr_. But the right thing for _Maamr_ wasn’t necessarily the wrong thing for Míriel, though it might be.

Oh, Valar...

 “ _Amrâlimê_?”

We lay snugged in bed, Tauriel with her head on my shoulder, her hand stroking my chest, and I had my arm around her shoulder. Míriel was in her cradle beside the bed, cooing softly to herself. It was very late – more likely, it was very, very early, but I was still as sleepless as if it were noon.

“ _A’maelamin_?”

“You didn’t say anything to the Orc Spawn about going to the Blue Mountains?”

“No.”

“Then... I think we should want to ask them to supper.”

Tauriel’s hand never paused in its stroking. “We’d better bake a cake, then.”

I chuckled. _Maamr_ might think I was reckless, but she’d be shocked at the utter unflappability of my wife.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. In this chapter, Míriel does the Middle Earth equivalent of photobombing her parents. She's quite proud of herself.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

 It was a day or two before we could get enough of the Orc Spawn to visit at the same time. It was a merry gathering as Rhiannel, Fallin, Giriel, Tethrandil, and Drennal took turns passing Míriel around. Everything about our babe fascinated them. They watched her nurse, changed her diaper, made the squeaky noises to make her coo in delight, and snuggled her in their arms. Elves generally bond before they consider children, but maybe playing with Míriel would encourage some of them to think about having their own. I had some hope that Giriel and Rhiannel would take their comfortable closeness a step further, but given the long lifespan of Elves, that might not happen for another hundred years or so, if ever. Still, I noticed them playing with Míriel together, laughing as our babe burbled at them, so perhaps it would take only fifty years.

Playing with our daughter wasn’t the only draw for our friends, nor was it Bilbo’s chicken pie, scones, and plum tart that we had on the table. Kili had intimated that an adventure might be in the offing for those interested, so about half of our cohorts had come. We had a festive supper around our dining table, punctuated with laughter, before Giriel spoke up with her usual directness.

“All right, Kili. You’ve stuffed us full of delightful treats, and your wine is as choice as usual. So you must need us for something nasty, like digging up old plumbing pipes.”

Kili laughed. “Don’t tell me that’s what you call an adventure, Giriel! I know you have more imagination than that!”

Giriel waved her hand dismissively. “Then tell us what you call an adventure, then.”

Kili sobered. He exhaled, gathering himself. “All right. But before I do, I have to ask each one of you to swear to keep what I tell you secret. You’ll understand why when I tell you, but I can’t tell you until you swear. If you don’t want to, that’s fine, but you’ll have come back to play with Míriel another day while I tell the others.”

The Spawn looked among themselves, clearly intrigued, but not sure whether swearing committed them to anything. “Swearing obligates you only to hold silence,” I explained. “You don’t have to do anything else after that unless you want to.”

“I’m in,” Giriel said, only half a second before Rhiannel. That was met with a ripple of laughter around the table, but the rest of our friends added their agreement quickly after.

Kili nodded in appreciation. “I thank you for trusting me. I’m trusting you, too, to keep your word, because you can bring a lot grief on me if you talk about what I’m about to tell you. So... some of you asked if Tauriel and I were at Erebor. It’s true; we were. And some of you know that I lost kin there. What you don’t know is who my kin were. I lost my brother, Fili. And I lost my uncle... Thorin Oakenshield.”

Kili paused to swallow, but our friends were utterly silent, absorbing the ramifications of my _a’maelamin’s_ words.

“So you are Durin’s heir to the throne of Erebor,” Fallin whispered into the silence.

Kili shook his head at once. “Dain is the king, and that’s the way I want it. I’m the second son of Thorin’s sister, heir after Fili, true; but I’ve no business being a king, and I won’t be as long as my kin think I’m dead, which is why I swore you to silence.”

“So where’s the adventure in that, other than dodging a lot of Dwarves who don’t come to Imladris anyway?” Giriel asked, shrugging.

Kili looked sheepish and serious at the same time. “My mother laid a promise on me when I left for Erebor with my uncle’s company. She made me promise to return to her. You see, she’s lost all of her family, some to the firedrake that took over Erebor long ago, but most in battle to Orcs since then. It’s bad enough that she had to mourn my uncle and brother alone. But she mourned me, too, because she thinks I’m dead. I’m all that’s left to her, and I want to do right by my promise, to let her know I survived. But I don’t want anyone else to know because I won’t be a king. That means I can’t send her word in case it goes awry, and it’s not fair to ask an emissary to go all that way, six hundred miles to the Blue Mountains, and six hundred miles back. So I must go to her. Tauriel says that she and Míriel will come, too, if at least three others go with us, so we’d be a large enough party to defend ourselves. So I wanted to see if any of you were intrigued enough to go on the adventure with us.”

There was silence, but many speculative looks, then a few murmurings, then the questions rose in a deluge. I fetched the map I’d borrowed from the map room and laid it out on the dining table, and dishes and glasses were moved aside as our friends gathered to study it. I laid out the information I’d collected, my take on logistics, timing, and so on. It didn’t surprise me that Giriel was in as soon as I unrolled the map. Even after we described our fight with Bolg, she was undaunted. She had a questing spirit for an Elf, and had taken to everything Kili and I had taught like an otter to a river. Rhiannel took longer to consider, but he was our second volunteer. After much debate, Fallin and Drennal decided they wanted to go, too. Tethrandil was torn, but couldn’t quite bring himself to go. Losing his horse as I had to the Orcs had made him unwilling to risk more loss, and I understood that. But he generously offered to see to all of our houses while we were gone, including caring for the gardens. So we had our company.

 “I’m going to tell Lord Elrond what we’re planning,” Kili said. “I’m grateful to him to take a chance on offering a Dwarf a home in his beautiful city, and I don’t want him to think that I’m turning my back on his generous gifts. But I have to keep my promise, and then I’m coming back here, as soon as I can. I hope he’ll understand that.”

I was proud of Kili for wanting to be open with Lord Elrond, and our friends murmured encouragement as well. We agreed to meet again in a day or two to make plans in earnest.

After our friends had gone home, as Kili and I cleaned up the supper dishes, my _a’maelamin_ didn’t say much. He seemed to waver between thoughtfulness and anticipation, for in one moment his face was still and considering, and in the next he revealed a ghost of a smile. As he stood at the sink to scrub the pie pan, I came up behind him and put my hands on his shoulders. Given that he was perched on the wooden step he’d made from the leftovers of Míriel’s cradle, he stood only a few inches shorter than I, and it was easy to nuzzle the silver ring in his ear.

“You’d better stop,” he warned, his hands full of scrub rag and plate. “Unless you want me to break the pan when I turn around to put big, wet handprints all over your tunic.”

“Tell me what makes you somber one moment, and smile the next.”

He kept washing, but he turned his head to kiss me quickly, then handed me the pan to wipe. He started on the next plate. “One moment, I think we’re both mad to not only consider a pilgrimage to the Blue Mountains, but to take our bairn, too, and then ask our friends along, as well. The next, I think about Giriel and Rhiannel falling all over themselves to see who could say yes first.”

“I never doubted that both of them would want to go. Tethrandil still mourns Sopheldin’s death, but it was gracious of him to see to our homes while we’re gone. Fallin didn’t surprise me, either. Drennal did.”

Kili snickered. “She likes Fallin very much.”

“Does she?” I asked, in surprise. I thought about that. “Hmm. You see both of them more than I. Drennal’s a good student in my class. She’s an excellent archer, and she rides well. She’ll be a welcome comrade.”

Humming agreement, Kili rinsed the plate and handed it to me to wipe. When I’d wrapped my towel around it, Kili turned around on his box to take me by the shoulders and nose the ring in my ear. “Don’t drop the plate, _amrâlimê_. It’s one of the good ones.”

“You would be in so much trouble if I were healed,” I warned him with a soft laugh, drawing his low rumble low of anticipation.

“Your name is Tauriel, not trouble,” he teased, nuzzling. “And yes, I would be, given half a chance. Just the kind of trouble I want to be in for the rest of my life.”

Míriel, sitting in her basket on the kitchen table, chose that moment to hiccup. Her hands waved erratically as her hiccups turned into wails. She wanted her post-supper snack. Kili kissed my ear with a sigh. “Bairns seem to know when their _Maamr_ and _Taad_ want a moment to themselves. I’ll finish the washing while you see to her.”

I put the dry plate on the table and put my hands on Kili’s shoulders again, but this time I faced him. I kissed him slowly, despite Míriel’s wailing, savoring when his hands went around my waist to ease me close.

“Hmm,” he breathed. “It seems this box of mine is good for more than reaching the wash basin.”

“It seems that I need to see to someone else after I feed Míriel.”

His eyebrows quirked up as he smiled. “Should I wail and wave my hands about, too?”

Laughing, I pulled him closer, and rubbed my hips against his torso gently. “You have other ways to tell me when I need to see to you.”

As I eased away, he grinned without apology. “How long before you’re healed?”

“Another week.”

He winked before turning back to the washbasin. “In a week, then, _amrâlimê_ , you’ll be in deep trouble. And I will be in trouble deep.”

Laughing, I gathered up the distressed Míriel in her basket and carried her into the sitting room. I put her down long enough to refresh the fire, then settled with her into my favorite plush armchair. Míriel fussed while I unfastened my tunic, but calmed quickly once I put her to my breast. It made me smile to see how fast she calmed once she tasted milk. I nestled deeper into the padded chair, put my feet up on the stool, shut my eyes, and hummed softly while my daughter suckled.

When another voice joined my humming, I knew Kili had finished the washing and was coming to join us. I opened my eyes just as he put another stick on the fire. His warm eyes smiled at me as he eased onto the stool between my feet. He rubbed my legs while Míriel suckled, watching her fondly. He picked up my hand to kiss it –

Míriel started to fuss again. I took back my hand reluctantly to switch Míriel to my other breast. She nuzzled in again with a grunt. Kili put his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands.

“She’s a pig,” he decided, exhaling.

“She certainly is,” I agreed. “She eats a lot, too. That must be the Dwarvish part.”

Kili hummed, smiling. “Without a doubt. I shudder to think what it’ll be like when we have a son.”

I groaned. “We’d better wait until Míriel’s weaned for that. I don’t think I could keep two full at once.”

“It’s hard enough to keep this one full. Where is she putting it all?”

“She’s growing fast. Can you tell?”

“I can. She looks different every day.”

“I think she’s finally full. You’d think I hadn’t fed her all day.”

“Give her here,” Kili held out his hands. Míriel went on her father’s shoulder with a coo, looking around brightly as Kili patted her back gently. When she burped, however, he winced. “Um... she’s not quite so full now.”

I giggled. “I’ll see if she’ll be happy in her basket.”

I took our babe, who seemed quite proud of herself, and got up to arrange her in her basket. Kili wriggled out of his shirt, then balled it up to wipe his back. “She got it in my mane. Ugh.”

I looked up. Kili might have milk down his back, but from the front he was the handsome Dwarf I first saw naked in King Thranduil’s cavern. Remembering that first glimpse, when I had fought so hard not to love him, made my savoring of him now doubly sweeter.

“I like having a maid look at me like you are right now,” Kili murmured. His lips curved into an inviting smile. “You look quite hungry.”

“You look like a Dwarf I saw once, bathing in a pool in the heart of _Glawar-galad_. He was the most enchanting vision I’d ever seen, and when I kissed him after he bathed, it was the sweetest moment of my life.”

Kili leaned forward to kiss me as he had in _Glawar-galad_. I took his shoulders and breathed in, anticipating the spicy scent that was Kili’s alone –

“What?” Kili asked when I pulled back before we could kiss. I held up wet hands.

“Oh. Míriel.”

“Your mane, hair, and all down your back. And you smell...”

He grimaced. “I’d better get in the bath, then.”

He gave me a quick kiss despite the smell, and got up. I carried Míriel after him to the bathing chamber. If I had to delay kissing my husband, I could at least watch him bathe. I did get to savor the sight of him getting out of his clothes. There was something about the curve of his ribs down to his waist, narrower than that of most Dwarves, and how that curve ran into his hips and down his thighs, and the firmness of his –

Míriel grunted mightily, then set up wailing again.

“Diaper,” Kili and I chorused.

“Get into the bath. I’ll get her a new diaper, then I’ll scrub your mane for you.”

I cleaned Míriel thoroughly, for she was well covered, and the reek had both Kili and I groaning. Kili held out his hands for her, so I plunked her in the bath with him while I threw the diaper in the bucket we kept in the laundry. I’d have to clean out that bucket tomorrow, as well filled as it was, but tonight I was going to kiss my husband if it took all evening!

I hastened back into the bathing chamber, where Kili was splashing Míriel through the water, making them both laugh. I undressed down to underthings so I could sit on the edge of the tub. Kili arranged himself between my knees so I could pour liberal amounts of soap into his hair and down his mane. He hummed appreciatively as I scrubbed Míriel’s contribution out of his hair, then I held her so he could rinse himself clean. He came up sheeting water, which made our daughter laugh. He took her back to cuddle her in the warmth, but saved one hand to rub my calf.

“In a week, I’ll be in the tub with you both,” I said. “I miss soaking with you, but I have to heal a bit more.”

“Another thing to look forward to,” Kili agreed. He rubbed noses with Míriel. “So, little jewel, you’re full, you’re clean, and I hope you’re ready to play quietly with your toes, because I want to play with your sweet mother. Can you be that nice for your _Taad_?”

Míriel burbled happily, cradled against Kili’s thighs and stomach, waving her hands and splashing gently. In a few moments, I took the babe to dry her off and give her a fresh diaper and gown. I kept one eye on Kili drying off. I loved the way he shook his head to get the hair out of his eyes, and the arch of his back as he bent down to dry his legs. As I put Míriel in her basket, my husband straightened to smile at me –

Míriel wailed again. Kili winced and he threw up his hands. “What now, Míriel? Can’t you give your _Maamr_ and _Taad_ a single moment to themselves?”

“She does not want to play quietly with her toes, _a’maelamin_ ,” I said in exasperation, putting my arms akimbo to glare at her. “Oh, all right, all right. It won’t do for you to be so bereft of your parents for such a long time, would it?”

I picked her up, but Kili took her. “It’s your turn to wash. I’ll take her while I find some clothes.”

He sauntered out, with a backwards look at me. Míriel might be in his arms, but his nakedness was for me. I shook my head, and made my own wash standing in the tub. I still bled a little from Míriel’s birth, but in a few more days it would cease. Then more warmth would return to my days, as I could resume soaking in the tub, as well as enjoy coupling again with Kili – if our daughter allowed either.

I found my evening robe, and came into the bedroom to find Kili propped in bed with Míriel in the crook of his arm. Happily, she was quiet, because Kili was asleep. I sighed in resignation, which drew Kili to open his eyes and chortle.

“Oh, a sleeping husband isn’t what you wanted to see? I hadn’t guessed.”

I arranged myself against the pillows beside him. “It likely doesn’t matter. Our little jewel is not a jewel tonight.”

“It’s a ploy to keep us from having another child before she gets her fill of being the center of everything.”

“If that is to be the deciding factor, Kili, then we will never have another child, because she will never get her fill.”

“Truth,” he snickered, bouncing Míriel up and down on his legs. He cast me a glance. “I still think we’re mad to even think about a trek to the Blue Mountains and back with a bairn. No place to wash milk out of my mane, no place to wash nasty diapers, no place to feed her in private...”

“We won’t go if you choose not to go. But I think we need to, to ease your heart, and to keep your promise. We’ll take a large supply of towels, and diapers, and the lack of privacy doesn’t matter. The Orc Spawn are fascinated to see Míriel suckle. Everything about her fascinates them.”

Kili’s snicker was deeper. “I like to look at your breasts, too. Especially when a bairn isn’t attached to one of them. That leaves the privilege to me.”

He leaned over to nuzzle my robe aside, kissed my breast, then suckled for a moment just because he could. But Míriel set up a wail again, and Kili eased away with a muttered word. I grinned; when Kili swore in his native tongue, it was always obscene and heartfelt. I didn’t need to know the particulars to understand his frustration, for it had a mate in my own heart.

“This is worse than having a chaperone,” he growled, but Míriel thought he was making a funny face at her, and babbled with laughter. “Look at her – I swear she knows what an imp she is tonight. It’s no wonder that Elves don’t have bairns very often. They never sleep. At least Dwarvish bairns sleep some of the time.”

My laugh was rueful. “Cuddling is all we’re allowed tonight, it seems. So I must be content to tell you how much I love you rather than show you. A poor substitute.”

“But an appreciated one, all the same,” he smiled. His eyes were so warm, so soft, yet still bright with the delight he brought to all things. He kissed me, and when Míriel didn’t protest, he tugged a lock of my hair with gentle fingers. “You are my delight and the heart of my life.”

“You are my _ancalima hendi_ ,” I stroked his hair, charmed all over again when he leaned into my caress with such open enjoyment –

Míriel kicked her feet, impatient that our attention was not on her. Kili flinched, because one tiny foot had found a very sensitive target. He tore his gaze from mine to glare at our daughter, and his curse was vehement.

“And you are an imp,” Kili growled.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. We're getting close to the beginning of the journey east to the Blue Mountains. Hope you enjoy the buildup.
> 
> Translation Note: Nenime = February

It was early when I walked to Lindir’s office. I had morning duty today and my mayhem class after, so I decided to see if Lord Elrond’s aide was in before the day’s excitement took precedence.

As I approached his door, I took myself in hand to put a calm expression on my face. Tauriel and I had had no better luck this morning than we had last night to find a moment to ourselves, and I was urgently feeling the lack. I was also feeling the attentions of my impish daughter where she’d grabbed a handful of my chest hair and nearly yanked it out by its roots. For the first time, I appreciated not having my race’s thick pelt, otherwise, Míriel would have latched onto a lot more hair than she did. Still, it had stung, and I had yelped, and Tauriel had dissolved into laughter. I’d been mightily annoyed at the time, but now my expression softened to recall Tauriel’s mirth. It enchanted me to see her eyes sparkle brightly, her cheeks flush gently, and...

I sighed. My cock was not taking the lack of time with my wife well. Not at all.

_What do you think it’ll be like on this hare-brained adventure to the Blue Mountains, Kili? You won’t have a moment alone with Tauriel for at least three hundred and fifty miles, and maybe not even then if Míriel holds to her clinging ways. This is not one of your better ideas._

That sobered me, but Tauriel was wiser than I. No, this wasn’t ideal, but waiting would only make it worse.

When I knocked on Lindir’s door, a murmured invitation to enter followed. I went in, only to find Lord Elrond himself seated at Lindir’s desk. He looked up as I came in, smiling in welcome.

“Good morn to you, Kili,” the lord of Rivendell greeted, rising.

“Oh! Lord Elrond, sir. Good morn to you. I didn’t expect to find you here. Have you and Lindir switched duties today?”

Lord Elrond laughed. “I would enjoy that far more than poor Lindir, I expect. He is recently come to the position, you see, and he takes his duties quite seriously. I am not sure that I would do them to his level of perfection.”

I grinned. “Oh, Lindir’s all right, though he does cringe every time I mention fountains. I can’t imagine why that is.”

“Nor can I,” Lord Elrond agreed, going along with my joke.

“How long has Lindir been your aide, then?”

“No more than three or four hundred years, I think. Quite a short time.”

The lord’s tone was mild, but the smile at the corner of his lips told me he was having his own joke with me, so I snickered. “Oh, you need a Dwarf, then. We have but three hundred years to get anything right, so we sort things out quicker than an Elf.”

 “I shall keep that in mind if Lindir ever decides the position is too much for him. So, Master Kili, is there something that I can do for you, or must I give you the chance to tease my aide again?”

I sobered, and quickly explained about the promise I’d made to _Maamr_ , and our plan to venture forth with four of the Orc Spawn along.

“It’s worth more than I can tell you to live in this beautiful city, and I will come back as soon as I’ve kept my promise. I wanted you to know the particulars so that you didn’t feel your trust was misplaced to give me the chances you have.”

The High Elf listened gravely without interruption or alarm, though his face was solemn. “It speaks well of you that you want to keep your promise to your mother, and that you have come to tell me of it. I do not seek to dissuade you from this. But I would remind you about the Orcs that attacked last summer. Consider the danger to your wife and child, as well as to so many of your friends. Do they understand the risks?”

I nodded. “They do, and I’m humbled that they still want to go. My friends know why I want to travel silently and swiftly, without fanfare. As for the Orcs, Tauriel is right when she points out that they’re still in disarray after the fight at Erebor, and I hope that they’ll remain so, at least long enough for us to slip out of the city without notice. And I also want to tell you that I’ve made another promise, this one to Tauriel, that we’ll return to our lives here. This is where we both want to be, now and forevermore.”

Lord Elrond folded his hands behind his back and met my gaze gravely. “You will be most welcome back, Kili. I like the changes that have come to the High Elves since your arrival. We are better educated to make our way with the other peoples of Middle Earth now. So I will bless your journey. I will also charge you to act as my envoy to your lady mother, Dis, of the Blue Mountains. Offer her my greetings, and tell her that your people are most welcome to stop in Imladris on their way to Erebor, to rest and refresh themselves before they face the mountains to the east. I do this in the hopes that our peoples can enjoy warmer relations than we have in the past.” He smiled wryly. “I also hope that it may mitigate your mother’s temper when she takes exception to the time it has taken for you to keep your promise.”

I winced. “I expect her to have a few choice words about it, sir. I hope she’ll let me in the house, to be honest. She’s a maid of... strong mind.”

Lord Elrond’s laugh was rich. “As is my lady wife’s mother.”

“Ah. Lady Galadriel of Lothlórien. Lady Arwen’s grandmother. You know how it is, then.”

“I do, indeed.”

“I thank you for understanding, sir. And please, don’t say anything about why we’re going. I’ve told the Orc Spawn – my mates, I mean – and they’ve all sworn not to say anything about the line of Durin. I still don’t want to be king of anything but my wife’s heart. It’s just that... I wasn’t able to protect my uncle or my brother at Erebor. I wish I could have. I want to do a better job of this for my mother. I hope she’ll understand.”

Lord Elrond put his hand on my shoulder. “I am sorry that your kin perished at Erebor. It is hard to bear the loss of ones so close, especially your brother. I will hold silence as you ask. But know that I, and many others in Imladris, value the presence of you and Tauriel here, Kili, and are better for it. Go with our good thoughts. I wish you a safe and swift journey.”

I bowed to the tall lord, and offered him my hand. He shook it, his expression benevolent and understanding. I left him before Lindir’s desk, and made my way away.

 

* * *

 

In a few days, we hosted the Orc Spawn for supper again so that we could start planning our journey. Míriel was delighted. I decided that this was my Dwarvish legacy coming out – my daughter loved a good party. She probably thought everyone had come just to see her, as much as she laughed and giggled. Reckless Dwarf that I am, I toyed with the idea of letting her entrance our friends long enough to vanish with Tauriel for a quick couple in the storeroom. But the problem was that one moment with Tauriel made me want another, and another, and another, and before I knew it, the night was gone. I snorted in exasperation; sometimes, behaving myself called for severe sacrifices.

I’d worried that some of the Elves who’d agreed to this adventure might have second thoughts and back out. Drennal, in particular, I thought might. But all four remained enthusiastic. Fallin, leader that he was, had brought lists of things he thought we needed to take. Tauriel, too, had begun listing things. Both gave us a good place to start, and by the time supper was ready, we had fleshed those out. We sat down to roasted chicken; my favorite tubers dressed with butter, cream, and herbs; the usual Elvish bowls of greens and plates of cakes; and apple crumble. Our talk turned to horses, baggage, and travel logistics. I had more experience with baggage and travel than anyone but Tauriel, given how Uncle Thorin’s company had traveled from the Blue Mountains. We talked long into the night about that journey, and how we hoped to shorten this one. As I listened to Rhiannel and Drennal talk about Elvish horses and their amazing traits of speed and endurance, I at last began to think that we might make a go of this.

We set the date of our departure for two weeks hence.

Later that night, after Tauriel and I had cleaned up the supper, we sat before the fire in the sitting room with Míriel contentedly suckling.

“I thought you said that spring had to be on its way before we’d travel,” I said, Tauriel’s hand in mine. “It’s barely _Nenime_.”

Her eyes stayed on Míriel. “My sense is that the sooner we start, the better.”

I perked up at the reserve in my _amrâlimê’s_ voice. “What do you know that I don’t, Tauriel?”

Her eyes were lost in reflection, but she shook her head as if she were as mystified as I. “Nothing that I know of. Perhaps I think of the old adage that sooner started is sooner ended.”

I hummed. “One of the Dwarves in Uncle Thorin’s company, Oin...”

Tauriel switched Míriel to her other breast. “The apothecary?”

I nodded, stroking Míriel’s head. Her dark hair had come in thickly just in the last week, and it waved, just as mine did. It felt like the softest goose down. “He was a seer as well as an apothecary. He read omens that foretold the doom of the dragon. I never knew what omens he consulted, but he believed in them, whatever they were. Do you read omens, too?”

Tauriel smiled. “I don’t think so, _a’maelamin_. But if we are to go to the Blue Mountains, then let us go.”

“Will you be healed enough in two weeks?”

“Oh, yes. I’m quite healed now. I intend to celebrate with a long soak in the bath tonight.”

As Tauriel’s eyes slid to meet mine, her smile was beckoning. I told my cock to behave, but my lips curved up in anticipation. “Do you think our little one will have mercy on us tonight?”

Tauriel handed me a towel from the basket we’d put in the sitting room after Míriel had so thoroughly doused me. I pulled my hair out of the way, draped the towel over my shoulder, and settled our bairn for her pats on the back.

“I set Giriel and Rhiannel on her. They bounced her from one end of the house to the other, then they played finger puppets and squeaky ball with her. I hope they were vigorous enough that she’ll be happy to play with her toes and leave us to play with each other.”

“I’ll make doubly sure,” I vowed, patting gently. “I’ll splash her around in the tub with me. That ought to wear her down even more, so she’ll be happy to take to her cradle.”

Míriel’s burp was genteel compared to the other night, so I carried her into the bathing chamber unscathed. Tauriel followed behind with our bairn’s basket, and I settled her in it. We’d learned not to pop her into the bath right away, given her habit to fill her diaper shortly after she ate. So she sat happily in her basket while her mother and I disrobed. I handed my _amrâlimê_ into the tub and clambered in after her. I didn’t have a chance to grab her before she’d grabbed me, proving that my Elf warrior maid took no prisoners when it came to ending six weeks of abstinence. But then, I was a willing sacrifice, and put up no kind of fight.

We made it through one indulgence before Míriel alerted us to the state of her diaper. Tauriel got out to do the cleaning and changing while I dumped the mess into the laundry bucket, then I hurried back to the bathing chamber. Tauriel was in the bath with Míriel, who splashed contentedly, but without her usual abandon.

“She’s tired,” Tauriel grinned, winking at me. She nuzzled Míriel’s tiny Elvish ears. “Aren’t you, silly babe?”

Míriel babbled back, but was more intent on the waves Tauriel made for her with her fingers. I slipped in beside them to take over the wave-making duty, and we had a few choice moments of play. She liked me to tickle her toes and fingers, especially when I added my usual squeaky noises. Míriel batted at the sponge as we rubbed her gently clean, though she still didn’t like getting the top of her head rinsed. We’d learned that it was easier to blow gently in her face so that she held her breath, dip her under quickly, and just as quickly surface before she sputtered. She’d gotten used to that enough that she made flapping motions with her arms and legs as we held her, so I decided she’d be swimming before she walked if we kept at it.

“We should have named you Fishtail,” I teased her, guiding her through the water. “Fishtail, fishtail, paddle all around; fishtail, fishtail, never touch the ground.”

Tauriel thought my silly rhyme was cute, so we repeated it to our babe a few times to make her laugh. But before long, she calmed.

“Ready for the cradle,” Tauriel decided, so I climbed out of the tub to dry her off, clothe her in her warm gown, and pop her in the basket with a blanket. She lay back quietly, finally happy to rest. Her expression made me laugh, because she seemed to consider some arcane bit of bairn philosophy.

“Good,” I chortled like a fool as I slunk back to the tub. “She’s counting the number of finger puppets she can fit on her toes.”

Tauriel snickered as I eased into the tub, trying not to make any noise to rouse our imp. “Wouldn’t that make them toe puppets?”

“I don’t care what she calls them, as long as they keep her from wailing.” I insinuated myself between my wife’s legs and joined us without delay. I exhaled in relief. “Oh, Valar, I have missed this. I don’t know how I managed seventy-seven years without coupling. Probably because I didn’t know what I was missing. Now I do. The past six weeks have been excruciating.”

Tauriel didn’t resort to the tightening that so captured me, allowing me to savor the sensations at less than a headlong pace. I moved slowly, entranced not only by my own pleasure, but by Tauriel’s, too. I kissed her as I moved in and out of her, savoring not only our closeness, but how the warm water supported us, making us weightless. It took our coupling away from the earth and turned it into the consummation of lithe river otters, or perhaps even into the air like hawks mating, because every sensation was as light as flying. When my attentions enticed Tauriel over the moon, she arched back, her legs holding me tightly against her, her hands in my hair, and her voice whispering my name. I held off to watch her until she was deeply consumed, then let myself race after her.

The water held us close as we came back to earth, still entwined. When Tauriel opened her beautiful emerald eyes, they were tender and warm, and she kissed my lips softly.

“How I managed to find you is a mystery,” I murmured, stroking her cheek. “How you fell in love with me is a bigger one. But how we managed to make our life together here is the biggest of all, because it’s perfection. I’m so happy with you.”

Tauriel eased me against her chest, her arms went around me, and her hands insinuated themselves in my mane. My arms went around her, my head rested against her breast, and we lay comforted in the warmth together. “You are more eloquent than I am, _a’maelamin_. You are the heart in my chest, the air in my lungs, the love of my life, my gift from the Valar.”

A hiccup from the basket beside the tub brought us both up short. But Míriel was still considering the philosophy of bairns, though I thought her smile was smug. Tauriel’s laugh was rueful.

“Míriel likes to tease her parents.”

I snorted. “She’s taking over for my brother. Fili loved to sneak up on me, no matter what I was doing, and wait until just the right moment to either scare me out of my skin, or make a mess of whatever I worked on. He claimed it was to teach me vigilance, but I claimed it was his love of practical jokes. He was an even bigger imp than Míriel. He would have been our little one’s best friend, thinking up all sorts of ways to tweak us.”

“I wish he were here to do it,” Tauriel said.

“So do I. He would have been the best uncle a bairn could have, even if he would have goaded us into madness.”

“Oh, I think he would have met his match in Míriel,” Tauriel sighed, rubbing my back. “Imagine how fascinating our little imp would have found his mustache braids.”

I dissolved into laughter, but the ache of Fili’s loss quieted me soon enough. “How I wish he were here for us to laugh about that, and a thousand other things. He’d laugh at how badly I miss him.”

“I think the Valar will tell his spirit, wherever it may be, how much you loved him.”

“I hope so. I wish I’d gotten the chance to do it myself, even though he’d tease me about being sappy. I would’ve let him.”

We lay together until the bath water grew cold, then dried and settled in bed. Míriel nestled into her cradle without a peep, and we were granted a good long time to reacquaint ourselves with each other. Knowing we had just two weeks to ourselves this way lent our coupling an intensity that rivaled our time in King Thranduil’s _caimasan_ _veste_ over a year ago. I was a different Dwarf than I was then, but I adored Tauriel more than I had then, and cherished each moment with her.

Even Fili would have to admit that I was the most fortunate of Dwarves.

 

* * *

 

Kili and I were very busy over the next two weeks. Both of us still had duty to take, and Kili had work to finish at the forge. I took Míriel to the stables to confirm that she’d take to riding swaddled against my chest. She liked the rocking motion, even when the horse ran its fastest, and didn’t seem to be jostled too much. I tried a back carrier, as well, but she didn’t take to it, preferring to see me above her when she looked up. I had a pannier already packed full of towels, diapers, gowns, and other essentials for her alone. My pack of personal things was much smaller, as was Kili’s. Of course, we both had a large collection of weapons, including bows, quivers, swords, various knives, and blade biters.

Giriel and I worked out the logistics of travel packs, and Fallin and Giriel came up with a way to get Kili out of the city unseen to divert any watchers who might still lurk nearby. I didn’t expect Kili would like it much, but none of us had thought of a better way to hid the fact that a Dwarf rode with a party of five Elves out of the city, so I expected he’d have to accept hiding in the middle of the baggage on the pack horse for the first day. After that, we’d be far enough east of the city that we should be out of range of anyone looking for him, and he could ride as openly as the rest of us.

Rhiannel and Drennal drew up duty charts, so that we’d have a set routine to make camp quickly, set the sentries, care for Míriel and ourselves, and prepare food. To save space and weight, our rations for the first rush east relied heavily on lembas bread, the Elves’ waybread that satisfied even the worst hunger with just a few bites. We packed other things in deference to Kili’s greater needs, mostly dried foods that could be eaten cold and needed no preparation, and we carried water skins. Once we reached Bree, we could indulge in ampler rations, but we’d agreed that speed would be our driving force until then.

 

* * *

 

The day before we were to leave, we made sure to wear Míriel out early. We’d given our last explanations to Tethrandil about the house and garden, and made sure he knew he could help himself to anything in the larder. We went to bed early, for we wanted to pack and be ready to ride east just after dawn. Our coupling was not the mad rush one might expect, but slow and tender. It had to last us some weeks, for neither of us knew when we’d find the means next.

“Kili?” Tauriel’s voice was soft in the dark.

I rubbed her shoulder. “ _Amrâlimê_?”

“Make sure you pack your mother’s rune stone.”

I leaned over to reach the small table by my side of the bed. “I have it here. I got it out before we bathed to make sure I put it in my pocket tomorrow.”

I handed the smooth, oval stone to Tauriel, who rubbed a finger over the runes carved on its face. It was one of _Maamr’s_ favorite stones, beautiful blue feldspar, with streaks of black and silver that twinkled in the dim lamplight.

“What does the carving say?”

“ ‘Innikh dê.’ It means, ‘return to me.’ She didn’t want me to go with Fili and Uncle Thorin to Erebor. She said I was too young and reckless. Maybe she was right, but somehow I lived through it when my betters didn’t. That’s another reason why I have to go to her. So I can set her mind to rest about me. I’ve turned out all right, and done well. She’ll be delighted to have a little granddaughter, too, even an impish one. She’ll say it serves me right for being such an imp myself.”

“And were you an imp?” Tauriel teased, stroking the rune stone again before she gave it back to me.

“The worst kind,” I admitted, smiling as I put the rune stone back on the table. “Into everything, six times a day. I think maybe Míriel’s sleeplessness isn’t just because she’s half Elvish.”

“Your poor mother,” Tauriel sighed. “I can’t wait to see how long it takes our little imp to bend your formidable mother to her will.”

I giggled. “That’s something I want to see, because no one has ever been able to do that!”

Before dawn, we shut the door on our house. I looked back at it, memorizing the shape of the door, the curve of the welcome lantern glass, the bare vine curving up the front column. That vine would be in full leaf and full of bright flowers when I saw it next. I wished we didn’t have to leave. I felt a bit like a refugee, the way I had when I’d left the Blue Mountains on my first contract with Uncle Thorin and Dwalin. But I owed _Maamr_ courtesy, respect, and the right to hold me to my promise. And this was my home, not merely another temporary stop for a nomad who never stopped moving from contract to contract. I would be back.

Tauriel and I went down the road hand in hand. Míriel was in her warm swaddle against Tauriel’s chest, and I carried only a small bag of things. We’d moved most of our baggage and arms to Drennal’s house yesterday, for we’d quartered our mounts and the packhorses in a nearby shelter. At this point, we’d made several trial runs at packing, and so this morning we went about it with practiced ease. I still wasn’t thrilled to be relegated to hiding in the baggage, but Fallin and Giriel were right that leaving the city was the most obvious place where someone might see us, and there wasn’t a better way to hide my short stature. So I climbed onto the horse, let my mates pack a lot of bags and panniers and such around me, and hoped I wouldn’t fall off.

When my mates lashed everything tight, I became less concerned with falling off and more with being able to breathe. At least I had a nice leather tent pad to protect me from pokes and prods as the baggage shifted with the horse.

“All right, _a’maelamin_?” Tauriel heralded. She must be standing on the back of her horse to see over the baggage hemming me in, for when I looked up, I saw her face above the top of the food pannier.

“Kiss the bairn for me,” I grinned. “And please, _amrâlimê_ , don’t run me over a ditch.”

“Done, and done.” She smiled as she tossed a small packet to me. “Here’s something to tide you over for luncheon, if we can’t find a place to let you out safely.”

From the smell, it was cold sausages, cheese, and a small bottle of water. “Bless you, _amrâlimê_!”

She disappeared with a wave, and in a few moments, my packhorse started forward.

We were on our way.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Our intrepid band of Elves plus a Dwarf and a baby is heading for Bree via the East-West Road. So saddle your Elven steeds and come along for the ride.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the campout!

Now that Kili was settled, I mounted Jalsin, settled Míriel in her swaddle, and fell in behind Fallin and Drennal. Kili’s horse, masquerading as a packhorse, followed me on his lead rope. Giriel, leading the real packhorse, followed Trellennan; Rhiannel brought up the rear. Dawn was still a few moments off as we threaded through the quiet paths towards one of Imladris’ eastern exits. The sky had a few clouds in it, high and wispy; it would be a cold day, but clear. Orcs didn’t like the sun, even in the cold of winter, and the quicker any lurkers were to retreat from it today, the better. We were actually taking a path that began further south than we preferred, but it was not often used given its steepness straight up the side of the valley, which we thought might make it less prone to watchers. As the sun climbed up to the horizon, so we climbed up the valley to the plain. We went on foot to save the horses on the steepest parts; I hoped Kili was not too thrashed about, given how hard Trellennan worked to keep his hindquarters grounded. I smiled to myself, imagining my husband’s muttered imprecations as he tried to brace himself in the middle of the baggage. He was a game traveler, though, and didn’t curse loudly enough for us to hear him.

In an hour, we’d reached the top of the path. The southernmost part of the plain undulated before us, brown stubble occasionally broken by rock outcroppings, but most of these were too small to harbor hidden enemies. The sun was full up now, and we paused a moment to survey the empty expanse. I dismounted, ostensibly to check Trellennan’s harness, in reality to let Kili know we were about to begin our race across the plain.

“Hold on, _a’maelamin_ ,” I murmured, fiddling with the strapping that held the baggage in place. “We’re up the path, and about to cross the plain.”

“No bruises so far,” his whisper came back. “Not for lack of trying, though. I swear, this path must be straight up.”

I smothered a grin. “Hold on, then. After the straight up comes flat out.”

A snort. “Have at, then. If I didn’t have to skulk under the baskets, I’d be racing ahead of you all.”

I remounted, checked Míriel, who was happily cooing away, and settled my hat firmly. It was time to find out if our efforts at disguise were worthy. Kili, of course, was completely out of sight. My distinctive red hair was hidden under my coat, and I’d sewn a long grey braid of Elvish horsehair to the back of my furred hat. I also wore the same muted grey livery that my comrades wore, rather than the green garb distinctive to the Woodland Realm. Fallin looked back at us, his eyebrows raised to ask us if we were ready. Taking a deep breath, I nodded. Fallin nodded in return, turned back to the plain, and urged his horse to a canter. I sent Jalsin after him, and settled to the pace.

Despite the need to keep alert for pursuit or watchers, despite my concern for Kili hemmed in by baggage atop a cantering horse, the sudden rush to speed was exhilarating. After so much talking, waiting, and planning, the time to consider was over, and the time to act was upon us. My comrades felt the same excitement, for the first few miles over the plain were very fast. But before long, the horses settled into the swift yet economical canter that devoured the miles. Míriel loved it. The rush of breeze and the rocking motion had her laughing and waving her hands despite being so swaddled. I laughed at her laughing, and fervently hoped she’d still feel so delighted after three weeks of such rushing about.

There was little to say about the morning’s journey, other than it was swift and without incident. By the time the sun was straight overhead, we’d done more than to twenty miles without effort. All of us were well-seasoned guardsmen, and used to riding long distances on patrol nearly every day, so our effort had been no more than a day’s duty. We intended to travel just as swiftly during the afternoon so that we made as much distance away from Imladris before dark this first day. Knowing that, I wondered how we’d feel come supper.

Luncheon was that only in name; we kept to lembas bread and water in our saddles. Míriel was able to suckle while we rode, though we did slow to a walk for that. We stopped once for me to tend Míriel’s diaper, then pushed on through the afternoon with just one more stop. The sky remained clear and the wind was only fitful, so we didn’t suffer from rain or cold. Finally, in late afternoon, almost as the sun fell, the empty plain gave way to scattered copses of trees, and we stopped in one of the bigger stands. It was thick enough to provide us good cover, and far enough away from other stands that we would see any pursuit coming. We held still for a long few moments, watching around us for any sign of movement. When we found none, we dismounted, and quickly set to unpacking Trellennan. Understandably, Kili came out looking frantic, and hobbled off through the trees like a lame madman. In a few moments he hobbled back, but with such a look of relief on his face that I chuckled.

“Oh, Valar, I don’t ever want to spend another day acting like baggage,” he groaned. “I was about to flood the lot!”

He flexed and stamped his feet, trying to ease the cramps in his legs. To work the knots out of his muscles after so much enforced stillness, he switched duties with Drennal to put up the tent while she saw to the horses with Fallin. We’d seen nothing move all day, from birds in the sky to animal on the plains, so we decided that Kili could resume his normal seat on Trellennan tomorrow. Still, we lit no fire, and Giriel brought out cold wine and food for rations while I suckled Míriel, and Drennal, Kili, and Fallin stood watch at the edge of the copse. As the three of us ate, we discussed how to rearrange the baggage tomorrow; when we were done and Míriel had had her fill, we traded places with our comrades so they could eat. Kili took Míriel, laying a blanket out for her so she could wave her arms and legs freely after the long hours in her swaddle. He got out her finger puppets to amuse her, but not the squeaky ball. We’d bring that out only when we were closer to The Shire, and we didn’t have to worry so much about the sound being overheard. I was surprised how well behaved our daughter was, given how confined she’d been all day, but given that she was only eight weeks old, perhaps it was comforting to be held as closely as she had been within me for so long.

Night fell upon us, the cold deepening as the stars glimmered into sight. Because Kili was the only one who needed to sleep as he did, he had the back corner of the tent where Elvish coming and going would not disturb him. Our tent was big enough to fit all of us snugly inside if the weather required, so as Kili arranged his blankets, he looked up at the tent roof with appreciation.

“We didn’t have tents in Uncle Thorin’s company,” he murmured, waving Míriel’s finger puppet at her. “Too much weight to carry for a party of fourteen. Maybe we would have, if we’d known about tents like this one – two layers to keep the weather out, but both of them lightweight. Far better than weighty, leaky canvas.”

“I haven’t seen its like,” I agreed, folding down beside Kili. “Drennal, do you know what it’s made of?”

Drennal pulled her boots off as we had and came inside to sit cross-legged with us, smiling as she put on one of Míriel’s finger puppets to join the play. “The inner layer is a special, very light silk, good to let out the moisture from our breath while it keeps in warmth. The outer layer is also silk, but of a heavier weave to keep out the wind and water. We do not spin either silk; we trade for the raw thread. After we treat the thread and weave it into many kinds of cloth, we can trade the cloth for more raw materiel, as well as other things we need.”

Kili looked up at the roof again, nodding. “A lot of Dwarves who live contract to contract would love a tent like this. After the firedrake burned Erebor, we moved from place to place a lot to find work wherever we could. Some of the clans settled in the Blue Mountains, but some never did find a settled home. They lived on the road, some catch as catch can. The wealthier ones use wagons drawn by rams or ponies, but some of the smaller clans stay afoot or ahorse. They’d do well to have a tent so fine.”

Drennal tickled Míriel’s chin with the puppet, making the babe giggle. “I know that many of the clans of Men who roam the lands far to the south put great stock in our cloth to fashion their tents. We have regular trade with them.”

Kili exhaled. “Trade ties aren’t so easy between Dwarves and Elves, I’m afraid. The Elves of Imladris had nothing to do with Erebor, but to many Dwarves, Elves are Elves. Uncle Thorin wasn’t too polite to Lord Elrond when he first came to the city, but he seemed to mellow a bit in time. Tauriel and I’ve proved that Dwarves and Elves can be very compatible, so maybe there’s hope for the rest.”

Drennal sighed more than a casual discussion of trade relations merited, which caught Kili’s attention. He glanced at her speculatively, then at me, but kept his silence as the Elf maid played with Míriel. In a few moments, Drennal glanced shyly at us.

“If you would like, I can take Míriel to see the stars, so you can have a little time alone. Then perhaps tomorrow...”

Her eyes met mine. “Yes?” I asked.

She leaned over to whisper in my ear, then looked at me questioningly. I kept any smile off my face. “Of course,” I agreed.

Drennal’s smile was both shy and anticipatory. I gathered Míriel up and handed her to Drennal, who took her carefully and swiftly left the tent. When she was well gone, I chuckled silently.

Kili looked at me warily. “Did you just sell me to another Elf maid?”

My chuckle grew audible. “I would never sell you, Kili. I’d make more just to rent your services out to the curious maid. Repeat business, you know.”

Kili’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped for the merest moment, but I braced when his gaze narrowed. “Be careful, maid. You might find I like being the stud among the mares, and then you’ll be hard pressed to have your own time with me.”

“Oh, does a day as baggage atop a horse make you want to act like a horse, rather than a Dwarf?” I teased.

“I know of Dwarf maids in cities who offer such services. Given how many lads can’t get time with a maid any other way but to pay for the privilege, such maids are quite wealthy.”

“Really?” I dropped my teasing. Such a thing had not occurred to me, though it seemed obvious now that Kili had told me about it. “There are such maids, truly?”

Kili nodded. “Truth. Some aren’t interested in a political alliance with a lad, or never find a lad who suits their fancy, or enjoy the rituals of romance without formal ties, or just like their independence. They’re often quite powerful, given their wealth and strength of will. Being a day maid is a respected profession, though Men don’t think so. They’re a strange lot, Men are, if you ask me. Quick to get caught up in making a host of rules and taboos and such, which just makes everyone unhappy.”

I wasn’t interested in the strangeness of Men. “Did you ever visit such a maid?”

His laugh was sheepish. “When I was in my thirties, I nearly set myself crazy. No unattached maid would look at me, so I got the idea to visit a day maid. I told Fili what I was about, thinking he’d want to go, too, but he stopped me cold. Buying time with a day maid isn’t like going to the market and finding a bargain, he told me. You have to look for quality, or you’ll risk half a dozen horrible sicknesses – sicknesses that he described in excruciating detail, of course. That put me right off. I didn’t have the coin for any kind of quality, anyway. So I worked a lot of extra shifts at the forge, took a lot of cold baths, and when all else failed, resorted to a Dwarf lad’s best friend.”

“A Dwarf lad’s best friend?” I repeated, mystified.

Grinning, Kili held up a hand. At my blank expression, he made the appropriate gesture, laughing first at my ignorance, and then at my chagrin when I understood.

“Oh,” I stammered, smothering my laughter. “An Elf’s path must be easier, for we do not have anything like your day maids. As for your best friend, I cannot speak for our males. But for myself, I never felt the urge, until I met you. It must have something to do with Elvish bonding.”

“So if you didn’t just trade me or my services to Drennal for tending our bairn, what did you do?”

I hushed Kili. “Quietly, _a’maelamin_. She is shy enough.”

“Not too shy to make her offer in front of me.”

“She doesn’t want to couple with a Dwarf, or even an Elf yet. She wants to know what it feels like to love another, and what two in love do when coupling. So she asked if I would answer her questions if she gave us time to ourselves tonight. Of course I agreed, both to explain to her, and to have time with you.”

Kili grinned wickedly. “I don’t know, Tauriel. If I showed her, she’d understand much more quickly.”

“Would you like me to provide the same education to Fallin?”

He gave up his teasing with a swift kiss. “No more than I want to provide an education to any maid but you. But this is just our first night out of Imladris, and as much as I love you, it’s not wise to distract ourselves so completely, or to risk educating whoever walks in on us before we’re through.”

“That would be prudent. So get into your blankets, _a’maelamin_ , and I’ll lie with you until you’re asleep, or until it’s my watch, or until Míriel realizes that Drennal isn’t either of us.”

Kili pulled off his coat and mail shirt, put his dagger to hand beside his pallet, and lay down. Likewise, I shed my coat and mail shirt, then lay down beside my husband to share a tender kiss while we nestled together. It was a mark of Kili’s years of travel, of having to sleep in all manner of accommodations, that he fell asleep quickly. At the same time, he must be tired after spending all day braced against Trellennan’s jostling. I waited until his breathing deepened, and his face relaxed into sleep. Then I got up, replaced my mail shirt, coat, and boots, and went outside. I checked that our horses were comfortable, then found Drennal. We settled into her sentry post with Míriel, and had a long, quiet conversation while the stars turned far above.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Tauriel roused me before dawn as we had planned. She’d already suckled Míriel, so I played with our bairn while Tauriel tended to herself and her horse. Míriel obligingly filled her diaper, so I could clean her up and diaper her before we got underway. She lay happily on the tent pad with me as I repacked our family’s gear, though I left out Míriel’s finger puppets until the last moment. Around me, the Elves were seeing to their baggage. We passed around the lembas and water, and shared a few quiet words. Fallin, who’d been on the last watch, hadn’t seen anything beyond a few squirrels and birds, so it seemed that we’d escaped Imladris without detection. We were in good spirits, if quiet, as we tended to necessities, and helped each other pack our gear in the tightest bundles we could manage. Now that Trellennan was back to bearing a Dwarf astride rather than as baggage, it was important to make the most of the one packhorse we had. We managed that reasonably well, though all of us had some bundle or basket or bag attached to our saddles when we rode out.

Oh and oh, it was so much better flying across the land astride Trellennan than atop him as baggage! Yesterday, I’d been able to keep myself properly balanced so that I wasn’t bounced to and fro, but I’d been so restricted in my movements that as the afternoon had waned, my legs had stiffened into painful cramps. Couple that with no chance to piss, and I’d been right ready to come bolting over the baggage and off Trellennan half a dozen times. But in accompanying me on this journey, my mates were generous beyond anything I deserved, so I’d held on, determined not to climb out and risk attracting danger upon them. Today, I was much more comfortable, and time passed much more quickly with scenery to look at. I thought we made better time with just a single packhorse, too.

At this point, we were retracing the path I’d taken with Uncle Thorin’s company in reverse, across the land on the East-West Road. It was wild, rough, and empty of people other than the rare traveler, none of whom we saw today. The most common travelers were Elves, Fallin said. Last night, as we had shared our cold supper, he’d told me that this was the route his kinsmen took when they went east to the Grey Havens. I had never thought of Elves much until I’d met Tauriel; all I knew was that they were immortal, and safe from the disease that was the bane of all other races. Despite their bad reputation with many of my kin, I’d always thought that it would be wonderful not to fear the pain of illness, or the lengthening shadows of old age, though Dwarves were better off in that regard than Men. We didn’t suffer the long slow decline that Men did, but stayed hale until just a handful of years before we died. Still, to suffer no decline at all seemed such a gift. What I wouldn’t do with such gifts – all manner of adventures, travels, and exploits could I make, and for millennia! But to listen to Fallin and the other Imladris Elves talk, it seemed that Elves took their health and longevity as givens rather than gifts. Their talisman was the Undying Lands, the place of retreat promised to them. The reason they could remain aloof from the troubles of Middle Earth was because they could retreat.

I didn’t have that luxury. I wasn’t sure if Tauriel did, either, though she seemed to think not. I’d had a look in the Imladris library once or twice, and my Quenya wasn’t quite good enough yet to puzzle out some of the old texts. It seemed a more open issue to me than to her.

When I’d last been on this road with Uncle Thorin, Fili, Bilbo, and our Dwarven kin, we’d been chased from pillar to post by all manner of enemies, though most of that had happened close to Imladris. This time, we saw nothing and no one, and traveled more than twice as fast thanks to our Elven steeds. Because Fallin and Tauriel in particular had made such careful plans, we worked efficiently together for camp duties, and Míriel was amazingly content despite the camping and the cold. The pack horse soon looked ludicrous, though, because when we found a stream to wash Míriel’s diapers, we’d hang the cloths to dry off the packhorse’s harness, so she flapped like an odd bird as we traveled.

For the first three days, I shorted my sleep because I didn’t want to slow the Elves, but when I rolled out of my blankets looking stupid well before dawn on the fourth day, our plain-speaking Giriel took me to task.

“By all the Valar, Kili, give an Elf a chance to savor the stars, why don’t you? We’re moving like the wind, and subsisting on lembas bread and not much else. Maybe you can travel on five hours’ of your sleep on top of that, but I for one want to see more of the stars while I have the chance. The horses need more of a rest, too. If we run into trouble out here, I don’t want to have a tired horse under me when we have to fight or escape.”

I held up my hands. “I didn’t want to be the one holding us back, Giriel. You, Rhiannel, Drennal, and Fallin are sacrificing a lot to come on this journey, and I don’t want to keep you from your home any more than I have to.”

“We appreciate the consideration, Kili,” Giriel held up her hands. “Now go back to sleep for at least another hour.”

I put my hand on my heart and bowed to her deeply. “I obey, oh, great lady of the stars.”

“You’re an Orc, Kili,” she shot back, grinning.

“What’s this?” Tauriel snickered, coming up to us with Míriel on her shoulder. “The Dwarf acts politely like an Elf, and the Elf acts rudely like a Dwarf?”

Rhiannel tossed a piece of lembas bread at Giriel, who batted it away before she knew what it was. “She’s always been rude. She’s worse now that she’s had Kili to emulate.”

“I was the only maid on the guard for seven hundred years, Rhiannel, so I learned manners from you and the rest of the males long before Kili and Tauriel got here. Though he’s been a fresh spirit of inspiration, I admit.”

I fetched the piece of lembas bread that Giriel had batted away, not willing to leave it for any followers to sniff out. It had landed in the middle of a withered, brown tuft of grass, so I wolfed it down while my cohorts sniped back and forth. They were still quiet, but after a week on the road without sight of anyone or anything, we were loosening our wariness a bit.

“It’s too bad Tauriel didn’t inspire you as much as Kili,” Rhiannel jibed. “She doesn’t have to be rude to make her point.”

“Some Elves are thicker than others and can’t be dealt with subtly.” When she cocked her head at Rhiannel, her smile was sly. “I use the technique that works for the particular situation. Your situation usually calls for strong measures.”

“If I’m going back to sleep,” I inserted, “you’ll have to keep the noise down. Do you think you can do that?”

“Bugger you, Kili,” both Rhiannel and Giriel chorused, then went back to their friendly banter. I shared a snicker with Tauriel, and returned to my blankets smiling.

Another week went by as effortlessly as the first three days. The weather, while cold, had remained clear and calm, and the land had been easy for the horses to speed across with their best speed. Míriel loved it. I’d taken her in her wrap several times, and Tauriel had told the truth of how she laughed and waved her hands when I looked down at her. I sang softly for her, trusting that Trellennan’s speed and the lack of visible watchers would keep my tunes unheard.

Shy Drennal grew less shy, maybe because of Tauriel’s conversations, maybe because of the constant company. Elves are solitary creatures more than they aren’t, happily mingling for work and play, but most live alone, and don’t seem to feel the push and pull between the sexes that colors so much of other races’ lives. Our nomadic existence didn’t have much time for solitude, because that was too dangerous in these wild lands. Orcs weren’t the only threat; wolves were common, and we’d left a few dead ones behind us when they’d tried to make our horses their suppers. Even a stag or a badger could be dangerous if surprised, so we stayed in pairs. In such close quarters, Drennal and Fallin did pair up frequently, though romance had little to do with it.

Giriel and Rhiannel, though... I can’t say those two were thinking about anything romantic when they were together. But there was a comfortable sense to their regard of each other, and Tauriel had great hopes for them. I did my bit to help things along when Rhiannel, Fallin, and I took our ease while the maids stood sentry, for both of them were curious about the bond I shared with Tauriel. I wasn’t profane as I would have been with other Dwarves, but I did let slip that an Elf maid’s ears were very sensitive to kissing... well, perhaps I also mentioned a few other places that were fun to kiss. I didn’t offer encouragement one way or another, but I trusted that if Rhiannel and Fallin ever got themselves in the right situation, they’d make good use of the information.

Our easy journey was over in the middle of our second week. The weather reverted to typical _Nenime,_ rainy, cold, windy, muddy – miserable, in a word. Míriel hated the icy water in her face, wailing loudly, but when we covered her against the sleet, she wailed because she couldn’t see us. We managed to rearrange her swaddle so that her face was protected but she could still see us, but it was uncomfortable for us to carry her that way, but better than letting her wail. The Elves suffered badly from the damp cold, shivering without respite, which was exhausting. The muddy ground slowed our progress, and we were in scrubby land that would have been difficult to traverse in good weather. Our progress slowed to half of what it had been, then it slowed even more.

When the wind blew the latest snow and sleet nearly horizontal, even under the trees, we looked for a place to pitch our tent and hunker down until the blow eased. But the ground was soaked, offering only a morass for a floor. We slogged on despite the thick downfall, until Rhiannel pointed ahead.

“That looks like a tower.”

Tauriel perked up. “Perhaps we have reached the Tower of Amon Sûl.”

Fallin smiled in recognition. “Yes, that must be it. We have reached the southernmost mountain in the Weather Mountains.”

“Weathertop!” I exclaimed. “I remember passing that with the company. We’re about two-thirds of the way to Bree, then.”

“There’s a path to the north that runs to the top of the watchtower,” Tauriel said. “The tower itself is in ruins, but the stone paving is still in place. We could pitch our tent there and be drier, if not out of the wind.”

“We’d better look to see if anything else is up there first,” I cautioned.

Giriel wiped snow from her face. “You and Drennal are point, Kili. We’ll follow, so yell if you come across trouble.”

Drennal and I rode ahead as we headed for the north face of the tower. Sure enough, we found the path up, and urged our horses forward. Neither of us saw signs of habitation, animal or otherwise – no bones, scat, spoor, or discarded gear. I had a sudden prickle up my back, recalling making my way up the Ravenhill tower, but there were no Orcs lurking here today. Drennal watched the path while I slithered off Trellennan and skulked up to the top. Despite the cold and driving snow, I made sure there were no other refugees from the storm before I passed the word to Drennal. She backtracked down while I drew Trellennan up to the top to scout for a protected spot for us, and another for the horses. In short order, my mates filed up after me. Rhiannel, Drennal, and Tauriel saw to the horses while the rest of us cleared ice and snow from a portion of the flagstones, then struggled to get the tent up and secured against the wind.

We saved the most protected corner for our horses, so they’d be out of most of the wind. Because we’d seen no pursuit so far, we decided to completely untack our mounts, snug them into their warm blankets and hoods, and put on their nosebags of good oats. They settled quickly, their backs to the broken wall that cut most of the wind for them.

Once we had the tent up and the floor pad laid, we hauled in the saddles and gear. As hard as it was snowing, we decided to risk not setting a sentry for a bit, so all six of us piled into the tent. The tent might be crowded with all of us within, but it warmed quickly from our body heat, and we could strip off wet coats and boots. We ran a line to hang the wet clothing, and set the boots to drip by the door. As Tauriel suckled Míriel, the rest of us cleaned and dried the horses’ gear, stacking it around the edge of the tent to make more room. Blankets came out, and for the first time we ventured a low light, not hanging it up high as was normal, but keeping it on the floor in the middle of us on a flat rock. Finally, an hour after we started, we brought out food and drink to share.

The day had been exhausting enough that no one had much to say while we ate. Even Míriel was subdued, though she perked up when I brought out her finger puppets. Giriel took up one to entice the babe, and gradually as the food and drink revived us, we talked quietly. It was cheering to know exactly where we were on our journey; if the weather cleared, we were about four or five days from Bree. Bilbo was another two or three days farther on. We could be snug with our friend in a week!

The storm gusted and roared for the rest of the day and through the night. We stayed in the tent, occasionally checking on the horses throughout the night. I slept through most of it, used to the comings and goings of people in a communal shelter. It was the closest quarters I’d shared with others since Uncle Thorin’s company, and as I fell asleep, I could almost imagine that the figures moving quietly around me were my kin.

They were, of course.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Here's a good, long chapter this time.
> 
> The Orcs are back at last, and our merry band has a rare day out of the saddle, which ends with some surprising developments.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the fun!

 

_Snaga restlessly shredded the remaining scrap of deer meat with his talons as the Elvish patrol rumbled out of sight. It had been two days since he’d seen either the red-haired Elf or the tall Dwarf on patrol across the plain. His stomach knotted. The pain had nothing to do with the poor food he’d snatched from the jaws of his Warg this morning, and everything to do with the thought of Krugnash’s last order to him. What if four days passed and neither the Elf nor the Dwarf appeared? Did he dare defy the Gundebad Orc and run far, far away from the bigger Orc’s stronghold? Or did he bow to the order, venture north, and face the death he’d so narrowly avoided the first time he’d gone there?_

_On the third day, Snaga whimpered when neither Elf nor Dwarf appeared. He couldn’t cross the mountains and slink back to Mirkwood. His own tribe would feed him to their Wargs for daring to return after banishment. But if he crossed the mountains, then sent south, he’d heard tell of other castoffs. Maybe he could find refuge with them... maybe. He hissed. It was certain death if he ventured back to Mirkwood. It was likely death if he went north to Gundebad. Who knew what lay south? But it was less dire, maybe, than his other choices, if he had the spine to defy Gundebad’s order..._

_Even if he did what Krugnash demanded, his news of the missing Elf and Dwarf wouldn’t be met with any gladness. The Gundebad Orcs were notoriously ill tempered, and would likely kill him just because his news annoyed them, despite his faithfulness to them. But if they caught him while he tried to flee..._

_On the fourth day, Snaga was dry mouthed and sweaty palmed. Even he was disgusted at the stench of his fear. He made such a reek that he didn’t blame his Warg for snarling at him. There were no gods for an Orc to beseech, but Snaga invented his own just to ask for mercy and make either the Elf or the Dwarf appear. But nothing heard him, nothing answered him. Here came the Elvish patrol, and there went the Elvish patrol, silver armor shining painfully in the bright winter sun. None of them had red hair, and none of them were Dwarvish. Curse the lot of them!_

_What to do, what to do?_

_Snaga waited a fifth day. No red-haired she-Elf galloped by. No tall, dark-haired Dwarf did, either._

_Snaga waited a sixth day. Again, no sign._

_On the seventh day, Snaga waited until the patrol galloped out of sight, collected his few things, and headed north. He aimed for the pass that would take him across the mountains. After that, he would head south and try to reach the other unaligned Orcs. Let the Gundebad Orcs catch their own quarry, and leave the lesser Orcs alone!_

_He’d almost reached the entrance to the mountain pass when dark shapes filtered out from between the trees. Before he’d registered them fully, they’d fanned out around him. His Warg stiffened in fear, but Snaga held her in her place. It was far too late to retreat; the bigger Gundebad Orcs’ mounts would run him down before he’d even get his beast turned around. There were eight of them, all of them as big as Krugnash, who rode at the center of the fan. Snaga’s nostrils filled with the stench of his fear, further cowing his Warg. He took hold of all the courage he could find – little, admittedly, but it was better than none – and rode forward boldly._

_“Lord Krugnash!” Snaga called. There was no use denying the obvious, but a good front might yet salvage something from this. “Lord, I have ridden north as you ordered.”_

_“You have news of the Heir of Durin?” the bigger Orc replied gruffly, riding forward._

_“You asked me to watch for him on the Elvish patrols. I watched each day, until he no longer came. So I have ridden north to tell you.”_

_“How long since you have seen the dwarf or the she-Elf with him?”_

_Snaga swallowed. “You told me to ride north when I hadn’t seen them for four days.”_

_“So it’s been four days?”_

_Snaga nodded. “Four days.”_

_“When you last saw them, were they both able? No sickness or injury that you could see?”_

_“They were both able, lord.”_

_“Which one did you see last?”_

_“The Dwarf, lord. The she-Elf rode patrol the day before.”_

_Krugnash’s nostrils flared dangerously. “Did anyone ride out of the Elves’ cursed city since you last saw the she-Elf and the Dwarf?”_

_Snaga bared his teeth. “The city is too large for a single Orc to see everyone who comes and goes, my lord, but I will tell you what I did see. No one comes or goes directly east because the mountains are there. A caravan of Dwarves came from the north and returned; they carried a cargo of ore, I think. Three caravans of Men came from the south with bales of hides and perhaps cloth and returned. I have seen no travelers come across the plain, east to the city.”_

_Krugnash whuffed in frustration. “Have the Elf scum changed their patrols? Increased or decreased them? Added warriors or taken them away?”_

_Snaga shook his head. “After our attack, they went back to a single patrol each day, eight warriors strong. The time of day varies, but nothing else.”_

_Krugnash’s orange eyes sharpened on him, then narrowed, but Snaga held steady despite the ache in his gut. “What else do you have to report?”_

_Snaga fought the urge to gulp, to babble, to turn and run in any direction that would get him away from those glowing eyes. He held that baleful gaze without blinking. He didn’t have to look away to feel the seven bigger Orcs close in around him._

_“Nothing else, Lord Krugnash. You know all.”_

_Those orange eyes glowed with a humor that Snaga didn’t feel. “I do. And you know of the Heir of Durin.”_

_Snaga knew before the big Orc raised his scimitar that he was about to die. But he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t scream, he didn’t beg, and he didn’t tell Krugnash about the party of five Elves who’d headed west across the plain six days ago. If he were about to die, then let his last living act be a defiant one, even if the Gundebad Orcs didn’t realize it._

_He managed to spit a curse at Krugnash before he lost his head._

_* * *_

_Krugnash watched Snaga’s head topple from his shoulders, and his body slither, twitching and thrashing, under his Warg. The beast snapped at the warm body, but the bigger ones drove her back, then set on her to kill her quickly. Krugnash and his followers slid off their mounts, drawing off to the side to confer while the Wargs contested the meat._

_“The Dwarf rode north with his kin,” Granzzl declared. Krugnash’s lips curled; the Orc with the tattered ears and Dwarf skin headdress was arrogant and too sure of himself, and too eager to claim credit for finding the Heir of Durin for himself. He didn’t think anything through, either. Why would the Heir of Durin spend a year or more in the Elves’ cursed city when his kingdom beckoned, and then ride north?_

_“Do you think so?” Krugnash questioned, his tone seemingly thoughtful. That alone ought to alert Granzzl that he was toying with him. Granzzl felt as much disgust for Krugnash as Krugnash felt for him, and any semblance of agreement was both insult and lie. But Granzzl was so sure of himself that he missed Krugnash’s sarcasm._

_“He seeks to run home to his folk, hiding in an ore cart,” Granzzl sneered._

_“Why would he hide in an ore cart when he rode here openly?” Krugnash wondered mildly. It would draw Granzzl’s scorn, but a few of the others glanced at him, wondering the same thing._

_“Why does a Dwarf do anything? Why did he run to the Elves in the first place? He was disgraced for not falling in battle at the Dragon’s Mount, perhaps. Now he tries to go home to reclaim his throne, now that it’s safe.”_

_Krugnash had seen the Heir of Durin at the Dragon’s Mount. He’d been small, but his blade and arrows had been formidable enough to slay many Orcs. He and the she-Elf had come close to taking Bolg between them. “He fought too well at the Dragon’s Mount to skulk north in an ore cart.”_

_Granzzl snarled, his contempt for Krugnash out in the open. “He knows we look for him, then. That’s why he hides.”_

_Krugnash resisted the urge to lop Granzzl’s head off as quickly as he’d taken the Mirkwood Orc’s off. “If you are so sure of this, then you ride north to take him.”_

_Granzzl’s yellow eyes lit with avarice. He liked the thought of taking the Heir of Durin by himself, for his glory alone. “And what will you do in the meantime?”_

_“I will search for sign elsewhere. He may still be in the city.”_

_Granzzl spit at the nose of Krugnash’s Warg. “Search as you will. I ride north. Who is with me?”_

_Krugnash didn’t allow himself a fierce grin until Granzzl and his three allies were out of sight. The three Orcs who remained with him were all Orcs he knew well, who were almost as smart and as cunning as he himself. They shared a laugh, also glad to be rid of the fools._

_“What is your real plan, Krugnash?” Berqk asked slyly. “Do you wish us to find a path over the rooftops of the Elf vermin and flush out this Dwarf?”_

_“Perhaps he is in the city. But I don’t think so. I think he went west. We will ride west until we find sign one way or another of him.”_

_The Wargs had finished their meal. The four Orcs mounted their beasts, padded towards the plain, and headed west._

_* * *_

 

When I woke in the morning, the storm still blew outside so hard that it was clear we wouldn’t travel today. Most of the Elves rested in the center of our tent. Rhiannel was stretched out full length on his back, his head propped up on baggage with Míriel atop his stomach. She held her head up and giggled at the finger puppet he danced in front of her, trying to grab it. Giriel and Drennal sat together mending a torn coat sleeve. Fallin sat cross-legged beside the maids, oiling his knife in preparation of sharpening it. I sat up, yawning.

“Still a snowy morn, is it?” I asked no one in particular.

“Good morn,” Fallin greeted me, and my mates murmured in kind. “Yes, the sleet is mostly snow now, and falling thickly. It seems we’ll have a day out of the saddle.”

“Where’s Tauriel? Checking the horses?”

Giriel looked up from her mending. “Yes, she just went out. She won’t be long.”

I got up, found my coat and sword, then squatted by Rhiannel and Míriel. “Hello, silly bairn. Is Uncle Rhiannel playing puppets with you? What a good uncle he is! I’ll dip out to deal with necessities, give Tauriel a hand, and then be back to let Uncle Rhiannel have a moment to himself.”

Míriel burbled, reaching for the puppet, then laughed when Rhiannel tickled her nose with it. He laughed at her funny face, then glanced at me. “Take the time you need, Kili. This is the first time I’ve gotten to play with her. I like to see her laugh.”

“Then have at. I’ll be back in a moment.”

I left my bairn in good hands as I drew on my boots by the door, stuck my knife down one boot, and buckled on my sword. The wind was blowing hard, so I pulled up my hood and fastened my coat closely before I ventured out. Snow had drifted deeply around the ruins as well as one side of our tent, but it hadn’t gotten over my boot tops yet. I ducked behind the rock we’d designated as the privy, took care of necessities, then stamped my way to the horses. Tauriel, well hooded, was filling the horses’ nosebags and making sure their hoods and blankets were well fastened.

“Good morn, _amrâlimê_ ,” I said, giving my horse an affectionate rub. “I’ll get Trellennan’s nosebag for you.”

“Good morn, _a’maelamin_ ,” Tauriel smiled, adding oats to the nosebag I held out. “That’s the last one. It’s bitter this morn!”

I ducked under Trellennan’s neck to take the sack of oats from her, then reached up to give her a kiss. “Maybe I can warm your thoughts with a kiss, if not the rest of you.”

She kissed me back slowly, despite the cold and wind. It was the first private moment we’d had on our journey, and the cold wasn’t about to make either of us rush it. “Your kiss is always a gift, no matter how cold it gets.”

“Then here’s another.” I kissed her again. “It’s a pity I can’t offer you more, but I’m not interested in educating our mates with a more thorough display of how much I love you. But know that I do.”

“I know, as you know I love you. But it is too cold to moon over each other out here for long. Let’s go back to the tent.”

We hunched down against the stiff gale and ducked inside the tent quickly. It was a welcome respite, even after just those few moments outside. Our lamp was aglow, and it was much warmer inside, and friendly faces smiled up at us when we came in. We left our boots by the door and stepped over and around our comrades to take our seats with our gear.

“We look like a right regular clan of nomad horsemen in our tent like this,” I observed. “All we’re missing is the simmering stewpot and the old _Maamr_ to tend it.”

“Tell us,” Giriel looked up from her sewing. “That’s what we’ll do today, since we can’t journey. We’ll tell stories, and Kili, you tell the first one. Tell us about the nomad horsemen in their tents.”

I looked around, and the Elves looked up with interest. “Yes, you tell the first tale, Kili,” they agreed. My smiling wife turned to the food pannier.

“We can’t tell tales without food,” Tauriel said. “And we can warm tea on the brazier if we put it by the door.”

Fallin dug into the one of the packs for the brazier, the package of charcoal, and the fire flint and steel. “Hot tea! I’ve craved a cup of hot tea for a week. I’ll take that on.”

Drennal took up one of the pots Fallin had taken out of the pack. “I’ll get snow to melt for the tea.”

While she and Fallin set up the brazier and put the pot of snow on to melt, Tauriel and I sorted out the food. Giriel stuck to her sewing, and Rhiannel was content to play with Míriel and her puppets. Before long, we had a steaming teapot and cups on one tray and breakfast on another, and we all found comfortable seats against baggage. Tauriel and I snuggled together against the squashy bag full of Míriel’s clean gowns and diapers.

“Now, the tale,” Giriel began, smiling in anticipation. “That day we met, when we shared luncheon in Rhiannel’s rooms, you said you’d worked drover contracts. Were they with these nomad horsemen?”

I sipped my tea quickly, then shook my head. The warmth, after such a long stretch of cold rations, was almost a shock, but a very welcome one. “The drovers tend to be settled, in small groups surrounded by their livestock fields. They drive their stock twice a year to and from one of the bigger settlements at the foot of the mountains, to the big markets.

“The nomads are Dwarves, too, but different clans. It was with them that I learned to stand on the back of a horse. They live way to the north of my clan, on the high steppes that run east of the northernmost Blue Mountains, and they travel year-round as their herds do. They have ponies and a few horsese, of course, but also goats for the wool, and the steppe is full of antelope for meat, and so many birds! In the summer, the horse and pony clans range far north and east of the mountains, almost to the ice bay of Forochel, because the forage is better there. In the winter, that far north is much too cold, so they move south and west part of the steppes. They live in these huge tents, made in pieces that they lace together, so they can add or subtract space from year to year, as the family changes. The tents are often canvas, but also animal skins further north because they need the extra warmth. They’re heavy, but with so many ponies, it’s not a problem to haul them.”

“How big are these tents?” Fallin asked.

“Big enough to get the whole family and often the hired crew inside. The biggest I saw could put twenty up at night in a pinch. If the clan’s bigger than that, then they have a group of smaller tents, one for each family and sometimes one for the hired crew. There’s usually a central opening to vent the hearth fire, and usually the oldest dam or sire tends it, or else anyone who can’t tend the horses any longer. They often have a small lad or maid to help them. They see to the family meals. A lot of them are excellent cooks, but if you’re squeamish don’t ask what goes in the stewpot. They don’t waste a scrap of anything, be it animal or vegetable.

“There’s open space around the hearth, of course. That’s where folk gather to eat, or to discuss family matters, or to work on small things.”

“What sort of small things?” Drennal asked.

“Sewing, like our Giriel here,” I nodded to the maid, who grinned. I tossed up one of the nuts Tauriel had brought out, caught it neatly in my mouth, and chewed. “Help each other braid their hair. Sharpen short blades, repair harness –”

Rhiannel exclaimed in remembrance. “That reminds me. I’ve got a bit of harness to repair myself. I’ll do it now while we have our stories.”

“Then give me Míriel,” Drennal said, holding her hands out. “I haven’t gotten to play with her for a while.”

I shared a wink with Tauriel as our bairn was handed around. Míriel went to Drennal without a squawk, then cooed delightedly when Tauriel tossed her squeaky ball over. It was a soft, cloth thing with a little bell inside that made a squeaky chime when it rolled, and good for a bairn to gum. Drennal took up the ball to let Míriel grab it, then tapped her nose with it. We were fortunate to have such willing bairn tenders. They seemed to have so much fun with Míriel that maybe we’d encourage one pair or the other of our friends to want one themselves.

“Back to the tale,” Giriel commanded, smiling. “Sewing, braids, sharpened blades, harness repair, and...”

I shifted so I could work on Tauriel’s braids. It would remind her that I loved her in a way that was suitable for a public moment. She shifted in turn, so I knelt behind her and unwound her _amrâlimê_ braid. “Oh, all manner of things. It’s a busy life. No one sits idle; there’s always something to be done. When the sun’s up, most everyone but the old _Maamr_ is outside, seeing to the ponies. Spring’s the busiest time, of course, what with foaling. Most of the fittest spend all day on ponyback, looking after the herds, driving off wolves that think a foal is easy prey. I got to be a very good archer tending the herds. Some clans have big eagles to help drive off the wolves, and wolfhounds. Beautiful dogs, they are; very lean with thick fur against the cold. Mostly grey, with big brown eyes, but they can be white or cream or black, too. At the shoulder, they stand almost as high as your waist, and they’re fast enough to outrun a pony, even a tall Elf horse. I worked with a beautiful pair of them that were the bonniest dogs ever. With all that, of course, you get pony racing, and bird coursing, and dog racing. A lot of Dwarves love to gamble on the races.”

“Dog fighting, too?” Tauriel asked, wincing.

“No, never,” I assured her. “The wolfhounds are much too valuable to fight. A clan can’t look after its herds properly without its dogs, so they’re coddled as much as its bairns are. In fact, a lot of puppies are put into the bairns’ baskets when they’re born, they’re that small. That teaches the puppies the smell of their clan. They guard the tents at night, as well as the flocks and herds, and they challenge anyone who doesn’t smell like the clan.”

“What are the suppers like?” Drennal wanted to know. “Those squeamish things you said not to ask about.”

“A lot of meat, of course,” I shrugged, finishing Tauriel’s braid, and going on to the _a’maelamin_ one. "That’s what’s available. If anyone’s laid up with a bad knee or shoulder or something, he or she takes the young dwarves out to look for greens and such for the stews. They use a lot of herbs, both for flavor as well as health. There isn’t any ale, as the barrels are too hard to carry, or wine. They ferment mare’s milk, which tasted pretty awful to my lights, so I stuck to the water. It’s not squeamish unless you ask about what part of the animal went into the pot. Fat’s highly prized in the cold months. So are organ meats, especially for the sick. You can eat just about everything but the shit, as they say. And they use the dried shit as fuel for the fire. Most of it’s grass, anyway.”

“What about games? Did you ever have time for fun?” Giriel asked, her sewing done.

“All sorts. Silly contests – who could ride the toughest ponies, or catch a goat, for example. Races of all kinds. Knucklebones, guessing games, and so on. A spot of singing at night, on many occasions. Most tent games were for winter, when you stayed inside unless you were with the herds.”

“How does anyone find time alone?” Tauriel asked, smiling at me as I finished her second braid, and went on to do the final one, the double twist down her back that matched the twist of our marriage rings.

“Oh, there are manners inside every tent, you see,” I replied. “In the center of the tent, around the fire, is public space. That’s where people eat, visit, gossip, or work on things together. Even if you sit there alone with your tea, you’re saying you’d welcome a visit with whoever feels likewise. Around the tent skirts, away from the fire, is private space. When you sit there – it’s called being in your blankets, even when you’re not actually wrapped in your blankets – you’re saying you want privacy. Folk around the fire pay no mind to what happens in the blankets. Folk in their blankets don’t pay mind to other folk in their blankets, either, if you get my meaning. That’s where a pair couples, of course. But more often, that’s where folk sleep, or think, or invite someone to have a private conversation, or work on something private. That’s where maids work on their bridal dresses, and lads work on their bride gifts.”

The Elves digested that as I finished Tauriel’s braid, so we switched places so she could work on mine. Our work didn’t go unnoticed, for Giriel slipped closer to Rhiannel and unwound her braids, and started to plait them anew. When she got to the back, she pointed to it, and Rhiannel obligingly put his harness repair aside to lend a hand.

“It sounds like you liked those kinds of contracts,” Rhiannel said, glancing up from Giriel’s blond tresses.

“I did. It’s one of the few times where being too tall or looking the way I do didn’t matter. I could sit even the tallest horses better than my shorter mates could, and I was generally the best archer, so I was better at protecting the stock. My brother wasn’t as tall as I am, but he was just as good a rider, and he was dead on with anything that had an edge. Anything that saves a nomad’s stock is something to prize, so after a few years, several of the nomads asked for Fili and me come contract time. I might have stayed out there if I hadn’t been one of Uncle Thorin's heirs. It’s often a hard life. But I liked it.

“I call Tauriel for the next story,” I said, because I was hungry, and wanted to eat my breakfast.

“What story should I tell, _a’maelamin_?” Tauriel asked me, giving my braid a tug.

“The first time we really talked, you said there was a festival going on. It was quite loud for an Elvish celebration, because I heard it all the way down in the cellblock. So tell us about the festival.”

“No, no, wait!” Giriel protested. “You can’t have her start with this festival. First, Tauriel, you have to tell us about why Kili was in a cellblock, and why he was talking to you. Were you in the cellblock, too?”

I laughed. “She was the jailor!”

“Oh, this gets more interesting by the moment,” Fallin laughed, wiggling Míriel’s finger puppet. “What were you in jail for?”

“Trespassing,” Tauriel grinned as she braided. “He and his company had ventured into Mirkwood, gone off the path, and run into a nest of giant spiders, just as my patrol of Woodland Elves attacked those same spiders.”

Tauriel related the story of the nasty spiders, making such a good story of it that the other Elves hung onto her words.

“They sound awful,” Drennal made a face.

“Oh, I was glad to see them,” I teased Tauriel with a wink. At the expected protest from my mates, I held up my hands in concession. “Oh, all right, perhaps I wasn’t exactly glad to see the spiders. But when one of the dead ones slid downhill right at me, there was Tauriel riding atop it like we stand on our horses. She did the most amazing flip off its back, knives in hand, glared at me, stabbed a second spider right between the eyes, glared at me again, then threw her second knife into the brain of a third spider. Then she _really_ glared at me. I fell in love with her in that instant.”

“You lie!” Giriel said incredulously, but I shook my head, and so did Tauriel.

“He did,” Tauriel agreed. “I saw it.”

“What did you do?” Drennal asked breathlessly.

Tauriel rolled her eyes. “I thought he was mad.”

“She marched me back to the rest of my company and her patrol, and they threw us in King Thranduil’s cellblock for a week,” I supplied. “She stood night duty down there, and she got in the habit of talking to those of us who’d talk to Elves. I did, because I’d never met an Elf at all before, much less a wild warrior maid like Tauriel, and I was besotted with her. One night, there was a huge racket of laughing and singing going on. So when Tauriel went by my cell, I asked her what all the fuss was about. So tell us about the festival, Tauriel.”

“It was _Mereth Nuin Giliath_ , the Feast Under the Starlight. It is a fall festival. I don’t think we have it in Imladris.”

Rhiannel looked thoughtful as he finished Giriel’s braid. “We have one in high summer that celebrates the starlight and another one at the start of winter. The last one was about a week after Míriel’s birthday.”

“I’m told our festival used to be held at high summer. But once the spiders came, it became too dangerous for the Nandor to venture out at night for a festival, because the spiders and other things hid in the trees to ambush unwary folk. The festival moved to fall, when the trees are bare and offer the spiders no place to hide.”

Tauriel went on to describe the special songs and wines that were part of the festival that celebrated the light of the stars. When she’d finished my hair, I drew her close, recalling the parts of her story that she didn’t tell, of how she rarely went to any festival, had few if any friends, and why. It made my throat tighten to think of my _amrâlimê_ so isolated, so disregarded, for so long. But she’d told me that the Valar had made me ugly to Dwarf maids so that I’d be hers alone, and she’d been made fiery to be mine alone. As she told her tale, I took up her hand and kissed it, reminding her of my affection and appreciation.

Tauriel named Drennal for the next tale, and she told about her mother’s kin who wove the silk that went into many kinds of fabric, including our tent, as well as many of the intricate banners that graced Lord Elrond’s halls. That led to Giriel talking about her family who took the woven silk and did the actual sewing and embellishment of those banners. Rhiannel told a funny story about learning to swim as a young Elf. Fallin’s family were mostly musicians, and he talked about the tribulations he’d undergone because he had little aptitude or interest in the family tradition, and had wanted to enter the guard instead.

As interesting as all the stories were, more intriguing was how our comrades came to mirror the physical closeness between Tauriel and me. The cold helped, of course, for the Elves felt it much more than I did. But more than the temperature encouraged their closeness. Giriel was kneeling behind Rhiannel to work his braids, and Fallin had drawn close to Drennal to play with Míriel. Even when one or another of us slipped outside to tend to necessities or the horses, each one came back to that same closeness. Míriel sensed our ease, because she was happy to play with whoever would have her, in and around suckling when she was hungry. Even more than when I’d been in Imladris, I savored the camaraderie with folk who didn’t care who my father was, what I looked like, or why I had chosen a life so far from what I had been born to. Through it all, Tauriel sat closely, her presence the primary reminder of the grace the Valar had bestowed on me.

We whiled the day away in comfort. The wind was dying, the snow lessening, and we expected to continue our journey tomorrow. When the hour was late, Tauriel went out for her turn to check the horses. Míriel was ready to consider her toes for a while, so I carried her to my blankets and got ready for sleep. I snuggled around her, my feet to the center of the tent as I’d been taught. I shut my eyes, Míriel’s soft hair tickling my nose as I drifted closer to sleep...

“I envy them,” I heard Drennal say softly. My last sight of her before I bedded down had placed her near the lamp, sitting with Fallin, but from the sound of her voice, she’d moved to her gear. Rhiannel had gone out with Tauriel to check the horses. Had Giriel slipped out to tend to necessities? Tent manners dictated that I couldn’t turn over to look at what was going on, but I could listen. “I never thought about what a bond would be like between two people. They make it seem so...”

“So... what?” Fallin murmured.

“I don’t know. I don’t understand it. But the way they look at each other... I never thought to look at anyone like that... that anyone would look at me like that.”

“Their closeness?” Fallin asked.

“I saw them kiss once. It was...”

“It was what?”

“I told you, I don’t know. I don’t understand it.”

“It is because they are bonded. You are not. That’s why you don’t understand it.”

“Then you do not, either. I would like to, one day.”

Fallin hummed, but I couldn’t tell if he agreed or not. I waited, but when I didn’t hear anything, I stifled a snort. If Fallin had been a Dwarf lad, he might’ve heard the unspoken invitation in Drennal’s wondering voice. But Elves were dense about such things, and Fallin was about to miss his chance. Tauriel was probably right; he’d figure it out in fifty or a hundred years –

“I think I understand a little,” Fallin suddenly admitted. “They changed from two alone to two facets of the same gem.”

“Yes... I see that,” Drennal whispered. “They are not alone, even when they are.”

Fallin hummed again. Míriel latched on to my finger, and I decided that while these two Elves might never get any farther in my lifetime, at least they’d gotten far enough to think about it –

“What do you think it’s like, this bonding? To kiss?” Fallin whispered. I grinned in anticipation. Would they surprise me?

“I don’t know, but I want to. Do you?”

“I... think I do. Perhaps... could we...?”

“We could.”

There was a long silence, but soft movements, like cloth against cloth. Oh and oh and oh, had our shy Drennal grown bold enough to kiss Fallin?

“I liked it,” Drennal whispered. “Oh! That tickles my ear...”

“Does it? Show me... Mmm. It feels soft. I like it – oh, Valar!”

Someone came inside the tent. I had to clap a hand over my mouth not to laugh at the chagrin and irritation I’d never heard in Fallin’s voice before, because he’d never been interrupted in the middle of kissing an Elf maid before. It was Tauriel, pulling off her boots, then padding over our gear to join me as she always did as I went to sleep. I slid over, ceding my warm spot to Tauriel as she lay down. As I arranged Míriel between us, I shot a circumspect glance towards Fallin and Drennal. Sure enough, they were away from the center of the tent, sitting almost in each other’s laps. I couldn’t make out their expressions in the dimness, but no matter. They’d gotten further than I’d expected them to venture.

Tauriel was smiling. I touched my forehead to hers, then put my lips to her ear, and not just to nuzzle her ring.

“They were kissing,” I breathed.

She turned her head to whisper in my ear. “So are Giriel and Rhiannel. Out in the snow.”

I grinned, but managed to keep my laughter silent. “We are a bad influence, _amrâlimê_.”

Tauriel’s ribs shook as she chuckled silently. “A good one, _a’maelamin_.”

I draped my arm around Tauriel’s shoulder and kissed her, taking care to do the job tenderly, deeply, softly. If our tent mates watched us, I wanted them to see how to do it properly.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Whew! It's been a long holiday weekend, and it took forever to get writing time!
> 
> This is a long chapter with a little of everything. Kili educates the Elves about the intricacies of inns. Míriel and Drennal discover a treat. The Elves see what trouble they can get into. And best of all, our favorite romantics gleefully sample a little trouble on the wild side. Then we're back on the road.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

_“Hold!”_

_Krugnash’s three cohorts drew their Wargs to a snarling stop._

_“What?” Berqk snapped._

_Krugnash pointed to the ground. The shit was old, but still recognizable as coming from a horse._

_Berqk’s fangs gaped wide as he grinned. “So someone_ is _ahead of us. Less than a week. I wonder who.”_

_Krugnash matched his cohort’s gaping smile. “Let us find out.”_

_* * *_

 

Because we’d spent so much time yesterday busily sewing ripped sleeves, washing clothing and diapers, mending harness, and repacking, we didn’t have much to do this morning to continue our journey. Kili, Giriel, Fallin, and Rhiannel went out early to tend the horses thoroughly. The day was a bit overcast, but dry, and they were able to groom the horses’ coats completely, clean their hooves, and make sure they had no wounds that would pain them as we traveled. Drennal and I put out the lembas bread as usual, and took advantage of the brazier to make our first hot breakfast of the journey – jerked meat soaked in hot water made a thick broth, and dried fruits in more hot water were soft and plump. When the horse tenders came into the tent, Kili hummed greedily at the scent of warm food. He’d slurped half of his broth down before the rest of us had claimed our portions. He politely waited until the rest of us filled our bowls, then he polished off the leftovers with his usual enthusiasm. As he held out his bowl for fruit, I couldn’t imagine the mayhem that had likely ensued at his mother’s table when he had his brother to compete with.

No one took long over breakfast. By the time we had the packhorse loaded, horses tacked up, and tent stowed, Míriel was fed, diapered, and snugged in her swaddle on Kili’s chest. We surveyed the surrounding terrain from the tower, saw nothing untoward, and headed down.

The snow lay several inches thick on the ground as we headed west. We would not reach the pace of previous days today, but it was more important to spare our horses and keep them from slipping on the icy ground. The breeze was faint, unlike the past two days, and the sun was faint, strengthening now and again as the clouds broke. We spread out as was our usual plan: Giriel and Rhiannel were on point, Kili followed with the packhorse with me ranging to either side as needed, and Drennal and Fallin brought up the rear. I indulged in a private smile, but as I was near Kili, he noticed.

“What makes you smile, _amrâlimê_?”

“Our daring Elves,” I murmured, casting a look back at Drennal and Fallin. “It has to be something to do with you, _a’maelamin_. Why else would Elves who have known each other for longer than I have been alive suddenly become interested in more than cordial friendship?”

Kili held up his hands. “Why blame it on me, not that I mind? Maybe it’s Míriel.”

“Perhaps,” I conceded. “In either case, it’s sweet. But we must set a good example, Kili, so that they do not neglect their watchfulness because they distract each other.”

I expected Kili to make one of his usual lighthearted jokes, but he hummed in agreement. “Fili and I learned that hard lesson on caravan duty. We were messing about with each other at the rear of the train one night when we should’ve been looking out, and a bandit pack overran us. Fili got an arrow in the shoulder, and I got knocked off my horse. We managed to slow them down long enough for the rest of the caravan to hear the racket, so no one died, and the bandits didn’t get to the goods. But we both got a thrashing for it –”

“Even Fili? Wasn’t the arrow in the shoulder punishment enough?”

Kili grimaced. “They pulled the arrow out first, but he still got the beating before they patched us up. We worked double duty for a long time. We never messed about on duty again.”

“I imagine not. So let me set the good example and range accordingly.”

I rode away from Kili, venturing up a nearby rise to scan the land. I thought about Kili’s story, realizing again what a varied life he’d led. A horse drover, caravaneer, smith, jeweler, and likely half a dozen other things I hadn’t heard yet. Where I’d spent hundreds of years in a relatively unchanging situation, he’d never lived one year like the next. Even as young as he was, he could have let so many hard circumstances sour him, but he’d kept his optimism, his enthusiasm, and his sense of humor.

Yes, I fell in love with him again, even as I scanned the scenery.

Despite the snow, we made good time, and the next four days passed quickly. The snow was gone but for slush here and there, and as night drew near, we expected to reach Bree. Bilbo had told us about a good inn that catered to all races, The Prancing Pony. After so many days on the road, it would be good to have proper stabling for our horses, a hot meal, and a night without worrying about staying so watchful. But how to acquire such simple things did not seem so simple to a lot of unworldly Elves.

“You’ve been to inns before, Kili, haven’t you?” Fallin asked as we rode.

“Oh, yes; lots of times!” Kili assured him. “What in particular do you want to know?”

Fallin looked to the rest of us. “That depends on whether we want to go to the inn together. If we do, then you can get us through. But if we don’t want folk to comment on the unusual gathering of a Dwarf and five Elves, then we ought to go in separately. None of us have ever been in an inn. So how do we ask for the things we want?”

Kili looked quickly around, especially at me, thinking Fallin was having him on. “I’ve never been to an inn, either,” I offered. “I’ve been to Laketown, but never to stay in the inn, or even eat there. I don’t know what to do, either.”

Kili looked sheepish. “I should have thought. No, you’re right; we should go in separately. Through the village gate, too. But I know how to manage that. The inn, though...  all right, here’s what you do. One of you goes inside to ask the innkeeper for rooms and stabling. If it’s not obvious which one’s the innkeeper, ask, and someone will point you to him. Then you ask for... um, there’s another thing we have to talk about. How many rooms do we want?”

Oh, that was a simple question without a simple answer, too. Kili knew it, because he couldn’t look at me, he was so busy stifling laughter. Our four companions looked back and forth, or didn’t, in Drennal’s case. Our forthright Giriel cut to the heart of the question.

“How big is a room, Kili?”

“That... depends,” Kili tried to look serious, “on the sleeping arrangements we want. If we want one big room for the lot of us, that’s fine. I’d prefer a private night with my wife, though, and there’s Míriel to think about, so I’d like a room for the three of us. Since Elves don’t sleep, you can get a big sitting room for the four of you. Or you can each get your own room. Or you can get two rooms – the maids can pair up in one, and the lads can pair up in the other. Or,” Kili allowed himself the slightest smile, “Rhiannel and Giriel can pair up in one, and Fallin and Drennal in the other. Or you can do some combination of the lot. I expect the inn can accommodate any arrangement we want.”

The implication was all but out in the open, but I refused to tease, and for once Kili did, too. He shared a gleeful smile with me as our four friends exchanged glances back and forth, but no one spoke. At last Kili’s restraint ran out, and he shrugged.

“It’s just a night at an inn. As long as you don’t wake the folk next door, the inn doesn’t care who ends up where. So we’ll get three rooms, and you can sort it out when we get inside.”

Drennal looked somewhere between excited and scared, which didn’t surprise me; Fallin looked the same, which did; he was usually so self-assured. Our assertive Giriel and calm Rhiannel seemed more anticipatory than anything else, so their choice was no mystery to me. Once that hurdle was crossed, Kili could proceed with our education.

“All right, you go in, find the innkeeper, and ask for three rooms and full stabling for seven horses. Full stabling means a stall plus feed. One of you checks the rooms with the innkeeper while the rest takes care of the horses. Put the horses in the stalls yourselves, and bring all our baggage inside rather than stow it in the stable. Clean and blanket the horses yourselves, and check the feed they give you. Ask for oats, not hay or straw, though that’ll be extra, but not much. Then haul all the baggage to the rooms. I don’t think The Prancing Pony has a public bathhouse, but you can ask for a tub and water for each room if you want. That’s extra, but again, not much, and a good scrub’s always welcome. Half can bathe while the rest eat in the common room, then we can switch. That’ll keep stray hands out of our rooms and our baggage. Keep an ear out for what folk talk about in the common room while you eat, too. Always useful. And don’t you talk about anything you don’t want to tell everyone in the place. Every wall in an inn has ears, as the saying goes.”

“How do we ask for supper in the common room?” I asked.

“Go in and find a table that suits you. At the edge of the room’s my choice, as you can see what’s coming. If the barmaid doesn’t come ask you what you want, a word to the barman will generally get you supper. On a cold night like this, there will likely be stew with bread, maybe meat pies, maybe roast chicken or such. They likely won’t have any Elvish greens, but you can ask. The sweet will probably be a crumble or a tart. Bilbo said this was a good inn, so it’ll likely have wine as well as ale.”

Kili gave us a quick idea of what reasonable costs would be for all these things, and we were almost set, until Fallin remembered what Kili had said about the village gate.

“Oh, that,” Kili recalled. “We need to rearrange the baggage so that Trellennan looks like a packhorse. Then we wait until it’s full dark before we approach the gate. I’ll be on top, and likely you lot will attract enough attention that I can slip in unnoticed. If the gateman asks you your business, just say you’re traveling through. I’ll head to the inn get my supper while you take care of the horses and the baggage, then I’ll climb in the window of one of the rooms, so make sure you get a room on the ground floor. Try to get them together, too, just for convenience. Then I can watch Míriel while you have your supper, Tauriel.”

That sounded feasible, so we rearranged the baggage now, as it was getting late in the afternoon. Kili shed his Elvish leaf mail, and stowed his bow in our baggage. He still had his sword and knives, and while he still looked more Elvish than the average Dwarf, there was nothing to do about that. If he stooped and wore his hood and cloak, in the dark he wouldn’t seem so tall to the casual observer.

Once the sun fell, Kili climbed up to lie flat atop Trellennan’s bundles. I tucked my red hair under my coat, and pulled on my furred hat with its grey braid. The rest of our comrades had similar hats, so in the dark, no one would question the reality of the horsehair. We rode the rest of the way to the village gates, and held the surprised eye of the gatekeeper long enough for Kili to slither off the horse unnoticed and disappear into the shadows.

We moved away from the gatehouse slowly on foot, leading our horses. After so many days with only our own company, even this small village seemed to press close. The central path was lined with structures on both sides, and many folk walked to and fro. Kili had vanished, which I didn’t like, but since we hadn’t seen any pursuit so far, I had to trust that he was heading for the inn without trouble.

Ah, there was The Prancing Pony ahead. Fallin went inside to arrange for rooms and stable space as Kili had explained. The rest of us stayed with the horses. In a few moments, Fallin reappeared.

“We have three rooms, one on the side and two on the back, side by side. The stable is on the other side. Kili’s already in the common room, eating his stew.”

The four of us led our horses to the stable, and met the hostler by the door. He was a Man of some years, with sparse, grizzled grey hair, a severe limp, and a missing eye, but the remaining pale blue eye was sharp. He didn’t seem surprised at the appearance of four Elves and our tall horses.

“You’ll be wantin’ to put them in yourselves, I expect,” he said without preamble. “Take your pick of the stalls to the right; they’re fitted out for tall steeds and suchlike. You’ll be wantin’ oats with your water, I expect, too?” At our nod, he turned towards the back of the stable. “Bob! Look sharp now! Oats for seven Elvish horses, and right quick with you!”

“We thank you,” Fallin replied, as Drennal, Giriel, and I took the horses into stalls and set to unloading them. A young hobbit soon appeared with buckets of oats and pails of water, a smiling lad who reminded me that we’d see Bilbo again in just another few days. We piled our things outside the stalls as we cared for the faithful friends that had carried us so far. When they were clean, comfortable, blanketed, and fed, we gathered up our baggage and followed Fallin into the inn. I scanned the busy common room on the way to our quarters, and yes, there was Kili in a quiet corner, bent over a meat pie with a big ale tankard to hand. He was acting like the typical Dwarf at table, reminding me anew of how much his manners had improved during our time in Imladris. It gave me something to smile about as Fallin led us to another wing of the inn, this one much quieter. All three of our allotted rooms were the same size and arrangement, so when Fallin went into the first one, I took the next, and Rhiannel followed into the third. I smiled again when Giriel followed Rhiannel, and Drennal edged in behind Fallin. Kili and I truly were bad influences.

The five of us conferred quickly in the hall. Baths and hot water were on their way up, so Drennal, Giriel, and I would wait for them while Fallin and Rhiannel ventured downstairs to eat. I ducked back inside my room to wait. In case Kili finished his supper quickly, I unlatched the window sash and tilted it out so he’d know what room to look for.

Just in time. A hissed word gave me pause. I put Míriel down on the bed, took up my knife, and edged my head out of the window. There was Kili, lurking in the bushes.

“Over here,” I hissed back, for he was under the window to Rhiannel and Giriel’s room. He eeled through the bushes and heaved himself through the window without a sound.

“How was supper?”

“Delicious. I highly recommend the mutton stew. And the cheese, bacon, and leek pie. And the apple cobbler. The ale’s prime, too. Oh, there’s a maid, so just find a table, and she’ll come around to ask what you want.”

Chuckling, I shut the window against the cold, pulled the curtains tight, and sank down on the bed next to Míriel. She grinned to see her parents, and giggled accordingly. Kili unwrapped her from her swaddle, put her up on his shoulder to look around, and bounced gently around the small room with her. As he put her down on her stomach on her blanket, I stretched, glad to let down after the hours of travel and the tension of our surreptitious arrival in Bree. Seconds later, two warm, broad hands massaged my neck, easing the tightness.

“Oh, that feels good,” I murmured. “Fallin’s having bathwater set in.”

Kili’s hands slipped away as he bent over, looking under the bed. “It’s a tight squeeze, but I think I can fit under here.”

I laughed. “Your mother must have been a harried maid. You said that with the air of a lad who quite knows what to do when he’s in trouble.”

Kili arched his eyebrows. “It’s too bad you already know my history with Dwarf maids, or I’d claim that it wasn’t my mother who was harried, but inattentive husbands of beautiful wives.”

Laughing, I pulled his _amrâlimê_ braid jokingly. “Are you trying to make me jealous, _a’maelamin_?”

“If it’ll encourage you to pay particular attention to me tonight, yes.”

“You are shameless.”

His grin was rakish. “You bring that out in me so often that I think you like me that way.”

“I do –”

A bang on the door resounded. “Bath!”

Kili kissed me quickly. “Under the bed. Give me the bairn.”

He slithered under the furniture with Míriel in his arms, so I opened the door to see a young Man wrestle a metal hip tub into the room. Two others came in behind with big steaming buckets, which they proceeded to empty into the tub. Another followed on their footsteps to add more wood to the fire, and to lay a supply on for the night. I heard Míriel giggle under the bed, which brought one lad’s eyes to consider me questioningly. I put a bright smile on my face.

“I’m quite looking forward to a warm bath tonight,” I said lightly. “Thank you for bringing it so quickly.”

“Yes’m,” the lad said. “Just call out when you’re done and we’ll take the tub out. Beggin’ your pardon, but we’s right busy tonight what with the cold, and there’s other cold folks waitin’, if you get my drift...”

“Of course. I’ll get on straightaway.”

“Thankee, ma’am.”

When they’d pulled the door shut behind them, I looked under the bed. There was Míriel with Kili’s finger in her mouth, eagerly gumming it as if it were a treat. He rolled his eyes as he crawled out. “She likes apple cobbler drippings. At least it kept her quiet.” He surveyed the tub. “You’d better get in quickly, before the water cools and I dive in before you.”

I must admit I sighed in anticipation. This was only a small metal tub, and I wouldn’t get a full soak in it, but it was more of an indulgence than we’d had since we’d left Imladris, and I intended to wring every drop of warmth out of it. I pulled off my boots and coat, my mail, then the rest of my clothes in short order, and stepped into the tub.

Kili took up Míriel, squeaking and talking to her, but he kept one eye on me as I scrubbed the grime of our journey away. “It’s not as nice as our bathing chamber, but it’s still wonderful to be clean.”

“Oh, it’s quite wonderful,” he eyed me up and down. You have no idea how wonderful.”

“Actually, I do,” I said, looking at his lap, which made him laugh.

“Then you’d better finish and get your supper before I have other ideas.”

“Or I do.”

Despite the warm water, I didn’t dawdle over my bath. Kili was much grimier than I was, given the difference between Elves and Dwarves, and the water was cooling fast. I stepped out of the tub to dry so that Kili could get in without delay.

“Go have your supper, _amrâlimê_. Míriel and I will play until you get back.”

“I’d better stay until you’re done. If I go to the common room before you finish, they might come for the tub.”

“Ah. Point well taken. All right, then. I’ll scrub quickly.”

“We have time, Kili. I imagine that our friends are just as eager to bathe as we are.”

“Another point well taken.”

The tub was easier for Kili to fit into than for me, so he scrubbed his hair completely as well as everything else. I suckled Míriel as he washed, and when she was done, I popped her in with her father to splash. They didn’t play long, for the water was cooling. I had Míriel’s diaper and gown ready, and soon we were all clean and dressed.

“I’ll get rid of the tub, then you can be left in peace while Drennal, Giriel, and I eat,” I said. At Kili’s nod, I went out, got one of the lads who’d brought in the water, and he and his mate followed me back to the room. Kili was safely under the bed, so the lads opened the window, heaved up the tub, and dumped the water out. Then they stumped out after rustic wishes for a good night.

Kili clambered out, got Míriel in his arms, and wished me a good supper. When I slipped out, Drennal and Giriel were in the hall, debating about whether to knock on my door or not. As we made our way to the common room, I told my friends what Kili had said about the food.

“Fallin said there’s cake, too,” Drennal replied excitedly. “Something called gingerbread. It comes with hot syrup and cream.”

“I wonder how my _a’maelamin_ missed that?” I whispered. “Come, let’s see if we can get some.”

We ventured to the common room, found a table by the wall as Kili suggested, and as soon as we sat a young Woman came to ask us what we’d like. She recited the dishes, but not the apple cobbler, so perhaps that had been eaten and the gingerbread was to fill the gap. I opted for the stew, as did Drennal; Giriel wanted bacon, cheese, and leek pie, and all of us wanted wine and gingerbread. The maid took our order good naturedly, and before long she set the dishes in front of us. A basket of rolls with butter came with the stew, and pitchers of syrup and cream for the cake as well. As Kili had said, all of it was delicious, so much so that we asked the maid for more of the gingerbread. Laughing, she brought us a large platter of it, which meant that I could bring a piece to Kili wrapped in a napkin.

We were almost through our supper when a large, balding Man came to our table. He wiped his hands on a huge apron, so I expected he was the innkeeper. Sure enough, he introduced himself as Barliman Butterbur, and inquired after our supper.

“Well, ladies, was it to your liking, I hope?” he asked.

“Very much so.” I pointed to the gingerbread. “Especially your delicious cake.”

“Kind of you to say so, very kind,” he beamed. “Will you be staying with us a while, or traveling through?”

“Traveling through,” Giriel agreed, munching her cake.

Barliman nodded. “Like all your kind, I suppose. Sailing away, as it were. Still, we’re always proud to have you visit as you can. If there’s anything you need while you’re here, you just sing out. If you can’t find me, there’s Ned, over there. He’s a slowcoach, but a steady one, and he’ll see you.”

“If I may ask...” Drennal spoke up softly.

“Of course, of course, my dear.”

“Do you think we might have some of your wonderful cake to take with us? It’s the best I’ve ever had.”

“Of course! I’ll go fetch you some now – a good big piece to last all of you a couple of days. Your lads fancied it well enough, too, so I’ll make it a good slab. And a bit of the syrup to go with.”

“That’d be most kind,” Drennal thanked him. As he bustled away, Drennal smiled self-consciously. “It _is_ the best I ever had, because I’ve never had it before. We could take some to your friend Bilbo.”

Giriel snorted. “If it lasts that long once Kili gets wind of it. Or Fallin.”

“Or me,” Drennal confessed with a giggle. “It’s wonderful!”

When Barliman came back with the cake, he took our coins for it and our suppers graciously. We finished our wine, divided the cake between us, and returned to our rooms without incident. I suspected that none of the cake would survive the night uneaten.

 

* * *

 

As Tauriel let herself out to go to supper, I sighed. I wished I could have shared supper with her. It’d been so long since I’d been in any inn, and to sit alone and try to remain inconspicuous was not to my taste. It would’ve been fun to laugh and share a tankard of ale with friends. But the reasons to remain unnoticed were real, and so I’d taken what solace I could in excellent food and ale. It had been so good that I’d been a pig, eating twice as much as my five friends would likely eat combined. Just to have hot food was a joy. I’d noticed that Rhiannel and Fallin seemed just as happy when they’d come into the common room. They’d had the stew, two baskets of rolls, and some sort of cake with their wine. I’d drained the last of my ale, put the price on the table – in Blue Mountain coin, as a Dwarf in these parts would – and slipped out without speaking to anyone.

Míriel grabbed my fingers again, wanting more of the apple cobbler I’d gotten on my hand. I wiggled them at her, and we had a game where she tried to grab them and pull them into her mouth. I’d slip them out, wiggle them at her again, and around we’d go again. For a lad who’d climbed in through the window and was alone with a maid, I was having a sedate time. Quiet and unremarkable. I imagined the trouble Fili and I could have gotten into given half a moment. But Fili was gone, and I was an exile, and all this unremarkable quiet was because I needed to stay an unknown exile. This was what my life must be outside of Imladris, from now on.

I resisted my inclination to mope. Being unremarkably quiet outside of Imladris was the price of life with Tauriel, Míriel, and whatever children would follow. It was better than being a king, and the target of political rivals, Orcish enemies, disgruntled counselors, and all manner of other terrifying things. So as much as I wanted to sing and drink with my mates around the common room fire, it was the smaller sacrifice.

Tauriel interrupted my musings and my game with Míriel with a light knock before she slipped in. I put down my knife and jostled Míriel on my knee. “Look, little one. _Maamr’s_ back!”

“With treats.” She held out a bit of cake. “Did you have any of this? You have to try it.”

She dropped the morsel in my mouth. “Mmm! What is it?”

“It’s called gingerbread. I hope Bilbo knows how to make it. I’m going to have him write down how to make it so we can when we get home. We’ll see him in just a few days.”

“Good.” I put a tiny crumb on Míriel’s tongue, and laughed to see her come to grips with this new sensation. “Look, Tauriel. Míriel’s trying the gingerbread.”

“She’s not old enough to eat solid food yet, Kili. She’ll choke.”

“It’s just a crumb. She’s giving it a good gumming. I think she likes it.”

Míriel wouldn’t have teeth for months yet, but she was determined to wring as much out of that tiny crumb as she could. I made chewing faces and noises at her, but she didn’t imitate me, only laughed uproariously at her silly _Taad_. It was good to have this time alone with her and Tauriel, and we played together on the bed for a long while before our bairn took on that intent look that meant she was ready to contemplate her toes. She didn’t fuss when Tauriel made a soft nest for her in the bag of her gowns, and I laid her down with her squeaky ball and blanket. When I straightened, Tauriel had slipped her clothes off and was crawling into bed. I hummed in appreciation.

“While you were having your supper, I was thinking how sedate the evening was, considering I’d snuck into a beautiful maid’s room through the window. I hope it’s not going to remain sedate.”

“That depends on what kind of maid is in the room.”

“Hmm. So tell me, beautiful maid. Are you a romantic who hopes the invader caresses you with tender kisses from head to toe, or are you a wild warrior who grabs the invader to take what she wants without mercy?”

Tauriel’s lips curved up, and her eyes glowed with invitation. “You’re wearing too many clothes and you’re too far away to find out.”

“Oh and oh, you’re a reckless maid, then. Being a reckless lad, it’ll take me no time at all to shed my clothes and venture closer. There, is that better?”

I’d stripped bare, and sat on the edge of the bed. Tauriel grabbed my shoulders and pulled me down into a kiss, the most ardent embrace we’d shared in five long weeks. I fell over her willingly, pulling the sheet and blanket off her, pushing her knees apart with mine, joining us without subtlety or finesse, but it’d been too long for either of us to want those. What I wanted was Tauriel beneath and around me, her hands full of my hair and mane as she pulled me into her, her legs wrapped around me like vines. As she held me close, I took her throat in my teeth, growling as we goaded ourselves into a frenzy. When she sensed me getting close, she wrestled herself on top, riding me as if Orcs and doomsday had descended upon us, determined to rip my climax out of me like a beast. It was so overwhelming that I wanted to howl, but at the last second I remembered where we were. With her panting in my ears, I smothered my howl in her breast, yanked her hips hard against me, and buried my cock as far inside her as it would go. Then I hung on and let the world go up in fireworks.

It took a while for all the heaving and spasming to stop. The panting and gasping took a while longer. I lay under Tauriel absolutely wrung out, her hair and mine in my eyes, her hands finally loosening their death grip on my shoulders, her hips hard against mine. She didn’t move other than to pant. I kneaded her backside slowly.

“Valar, maid,” I rasped. “You’ve right pillaged me.”

She got herself up on her elbows to look at me. She was flushed, her lips still full from her arousal, and her eyes had calmed only a little of their wildness. She curled over me to kiss me, then rolled over and fell onto her back beside me. Her exhale was long and satisfied; her smile, perverse. She looked like she’d pillage me a second time given half a chance.

“I have, haven’t I? Did you mind?”

The itch to tease Tauriel was more than I could resist. I turned on my side to put my head on her shoulder, my arm across her ribs, and my lips by her ear. I nuzzled her marriage ring. “Of course you had to marry a Dwarf. You’d kill an Elf lad rutting like that.”

She giggled – my fierce warrior maid giggled like I’d told her a piece of juicy gossip. “Likely so,” she admitted. Her arm stroked my hip in slow, delicate circles, something I always found both calming and arousing at the same time. “Dwarf maids must be sturdy, I suppose.”

“I don’t know, and don’t care. I have what I want – a crazed Elf warrior maid who takes no prisoners. I hope you didn’t encourage Drennal and Giriel to such abandon, at least not on the road. We need to get Rhiannel and Fallin home safely.”

“That depends on what you encouraged Rhiannel and Fallin to try with an Elf maid.”

I grinned. “We’ll find out if they sorted themselves out in the morning. Any wagers?”

Tauriel shook her head. “Let them find their way without any more interference from us. Now, it is late, and you must sleep before the morning. But I would like another indulgence, if you are so inclined.”

I sighed heavily. “The things I must do for my greedy wife.”

“Is the legendary prowess of Dwarves a myth, then?” she teased.

I eased atop her, kissed her breasts until her breath caught, and then her lips. “After the way you pillaged me, I needed a dozen breaths before you did it again, _amrâlimê_. But now that I’ve had a few more than that, I’m good for something longer and not so headlong. This time, let us savor.”

 Tauriel smoothed the hair out of my eyes, caressed my ears with their rings, and stroked my lips. “All right. Now that we’ve ended the drought of long five weeks with fire, let’s savor each other like the best wine.”

I kissed her thoroughly. Her arms went around my neck, and her fingers tangled themselves in my mane to massage my back slowly. I hummed luxuriously.

“Um, perhaps I should bring you a glass of water first? Just so you don’t down me in a single gulp?”

Tauriel’s eyes narrowed, but her lips curved up in that perverse smile again. “Do you want to end up on the bottom again?”

“Valar, maid, as long as I’m inside you, you can please yourself. Shall I roll over, then?”

She wrapped her legs around me so I couldn’t roll off. “You really are irrepressible.”

“Yah, it’s one of the things you don’t get in an Elf lad.”

“Why don’t you show me some of the other things I don’t get in an Elf lad?”

I proceeded to show her, at great length.

 

* * *

 

Not all of us got an early start the next morning. Kili did, because he had to sneak out of the window, find another inn where he could get a hot breakfast, and then sneak back in. I did, because I had Míriel to suckle and our baggage to tidy. The rest of our comrades, however, did not. Kili and I indulged ourselves while waiting for them to sort themselves out. Clearly, something had happened to make them so late.

Eventually, I collected the two maids for breakfast; Rhiannel and Fallin had gone earlier. They both looked distracted as we sat down to table and ordered porridge, rolls, stewed fruit, and tea. Giriel surprised me by ordering two eggs as well. I didn’t comment, but my expression must’ve conveyed something, because Giriel’s grin rivaled Kili’s at its most irrepressible. When she leaned forward over her elbows, Drennal and I followed suit.

“It was much louder than I thought it would be,” she whispered. “Did you hear us?”

I’d been distracted with my own activities, but I shook my head solemnly. “Not a sound.”

Drennal looked confused. “It’s supposed to be... loud?”

I nudged her shoulder with mine. “It doesn’t have to be. The important thing is to enjoy whatever happens, that’s all.”

“So did you?” Giriel asked point blank.

“Don’t be a lad about it, Giriel,” I rebuked. “If Drennal wants to say anything, she will. If not, then that is that.”

“I enjoyed it,” Giriel said. She grinned again. “Especially the loud parts.”

I thought about Kili starting to howl, then how he stifled himself, and didn’t resist a small smile. Drennal looked back and forth between us, as if she missed something. I took her hand.

“It’s different for everyone. Giriel likes it loud. I think it’s wonderful in the bathing tub –”

“Bathing tub?” Giriel cut in, her eyes wide. “Oh, Valar, I’m trying that the moment we get back to Imladris!”

Our breakfast came, which gave poor Drennal something to do while she sorted herself out. Giriel enthusiastically shoveled down her breakfast like a Dwarf and was done in short order. She sat there looking so pleased with herself that I shooed her away. “Go pack, Giriel. Or maybe give Rhiannel a hand with his. Or something else. Just be ready in half an hour to leave.”

She bounced away. I rolled my eyes at Drennal. “Pay her no mind, Drennal. Giriel does everything at a headlong pace. She’s the most un-Elf-like Elf I’ve ever met.”

Drennal smothered a laugh. “I expect poor Rhiannel never had a chance.”

Kili had made sure that both Rhiannel and Fallin had known a few chances to take. “Maybe one of the reasons why Giriel is so delighted is because he did have a chance.”

She laughed again. “Possibly. And thank you for not asking anything. It was private between us. But I did like it, and Fallin said he did, too.”

I nodded. “Good. Now, we must be off. I’ll see you outside our doors in half an hour.”

We paid the maid for our breakfasts as well as more of the gingerbread, and headed back to our rooms.

Kili had Míriel on his shoulder, dancing her around, when I slipped in with the gingerbread. He took in my smug smile with a glance and cocked his head.

“Both pairs?”

I nodded. “Diaper?”

“Just changed. Bonded, or just sporting?”

“I don’t think Elves sport, Kili, but I won’t know for sure until I see all of them together. Giriel likes the loud parts, she said –”

Kili snorted in laughter.

“Drennal was much quieter, but I think hers is a bond.”

“Valar, Tauriel. We should set ourselves up as matchmakers when we get home. We could be the catalyst that fills the city to capacity before ten years are past.”

I liked that. “I told them to meet outside our doors in half an hour. When we leave the inn, do we go back through the village gate, or straight through?”

“Back through the same gate, then right at the path. I’ll go through and lurk in the shrubbery until I catch up to you. Sorry to leave the horses and baggage to you again, as well as Míriel.”

“No matter. I’ll see you shortly, _a’maelamin_.”

Kili kissed Míriel’s cheek, then my lips. “When you see your husband next, lass, I want to hear all about how you spent all night rutting with the rascal who climbed through your window last night.”

“Only if you tell me all about the wild Elf maid who pillaged you so completely.”

I stuck out my hand, which Kili slapped with a chuckle. “Deal. See you soon, _amrâlimê_.”

He heaved himself out of the window and was gone. I shut it behind him, then let Míriel play on the bed while I hauled our baggage out into the hall. By the time I was done, our comrades took all the horse tack out to the stable, leaving me here with our personal things. Rhiannel and Fallin were quickly back to get the rest, so I arranged Míriel in her swaddle and followed them out. We arranged the baggage, led our horses out, and were soon retracing our steps to the village gate. We headed away from Bree with light hearts.

Kili rendezvoused with us a few miles down the path without trouble. We rearranged the baggage, and then set off at a rapid pace. The path soon ran into an old forest. The snow and ice were gone from all but the deepest shadows, though the air was still cold and the wind fitful, mostly out of the north. Kili said that some twenty miles through the forest we’d find a ferry across the Baranduin River, and that we’d be in the Shire once we crossed the river.

We reached the ferry in late afternoon. As close as we were to Bilbo, we didn’t bother to send Kili over the ferry separately, but went over together. We had reached the Shire at last!

We pitched our tent in a small grove, just as the sunlight faded. We hoped to reach Bilbo’s home tomorrow, so ate short rations quickly and set the watch. Kili bedded down at once, for we wanted to be off as soon as we had light. Even our banter was quick as I lay down with him.

“What do you think? Giriel’s sporting with Rhiannel, but Drennal and Fallin have bonded?” he whispered.

“Yes to the latter,” I whispered back. “Look at the way they look at each other. Quieter than our bond, but there.”

“Agreed. I don’t know about the other two. I thought with Elves you were supposed to tell just be looking at them.”

“Clearly not. Now to sleep with you. Tomorrow we see Bilbo!”

Kili chortled. “I can’t wait to knock on his door and see his surprise when he sees us.”

We snuggled with Míriel between us, and despite his excitement Kili soon dropped off. As I rose to take Míriel to survey the stars with me, blankets shifted on the other side of the tent. It was Giriel and Rhiannel, snuggled in as tender an embrace as my romantic husband could have imagined. I kept silent as I went out. As Kili had explained, every tent has manners, and ours was no different.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all.
> 
> This is a short chapter, but an old friend makes a welcome reappearance. Hope you all like it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to helia for the nickname!

_Krugnash and his followers trailed the spoor of their quarry across the wild lands. It was an easy trail, following the road as straight as an arrow. They didn’t have to hide, as fast as the Elve’s horses ran; he’d driven the Wargs ragged and they’d still lost ground. The heavy storm hadn’t helped, either; they’d had to find an old troll hole to get out of the weather, which had stunk. Grugkal had already argued hard to abandon this mad dash, for they would never catch up to the Elves unless they stopped, and there seemed no chance of that. Grugkal and Hrashk had been whispering among themselves, and were just about to turn towards home when they reached the abandoned watchtower. Krugnash didn’t bother to order the rest up to search; his hold was already too tenuous for that. He went up himself sourly, cursing surly underlings, cursing Elves, cursing snow, and doubly cursing Dwarves._

_His sourness faded when he reached the top of the watchtower. The Elves had been scrupulous to leave no scrap of their encampment, but they’d shat and pissed as much as their horses, and it was clear that the party had held here until the snow stopped. He dismounted, prowling the broken walls. Yes, here the horses had stayed. And yes, here their riders had relieved themselves. Hmm. More than one she-Elf in in the lot. And yes... yes..._

_Krugnash took a deep breath to make sure. Yes, there it was – the stench of Dwarf._

_He rode down from the tower, his fangs bared in triumph. “The Dwarf is ahead of us!”_

_“How do you know?” Grugkal challenged, but Krugnash wasn’t daunted._

_“Go up and smell the scat for yourself. The stench of Dwarf is clear. He is ahead of us.”_

_There was no argument when they continued east. Even the Wargs had a new purpose in their steps._

 

* * *

 

I didn’t sleep much during the night. I was too eager to see our friend again to waste time on sleeping. Since Elves didn’t sleep, no one complained when I got up before dawn and set to packing my gear. Tauriel moved to help, but I kissed her and our bairn good morning and told her that I was too full of energy to sit, and would handle our baggage myself. She’d handled it alone at the inn in Bree, so I owed her the courtesy.

I had the packhorse and most of the horses tacked up before Giriel and Rhiannel appeared. They’d been snugged together in their blankets when I’d left the tent, but I’d made no comment as I’d been taught, though I did allow myself a smile as I worked on the horses. As my two mates came alongside to take on the two horses I hadn’t yet done, I eyed them both.

Giriel broke first, grinning, as she leaned into Rhiannel. The way he looked back at her... I know what Tauriel had said about Giriel liking the loud parts, but I’d heard enough lads brag to their mates, and then seen the way they’d looked at their maids, to know the truth behind her bluster. I grinned at them both, which they met with self-conscious chuckles. I was too excited about Bilbo to tease them, so let it go with a slap on the back of both of them.

Breakfast was lembas bread and water, and not much of either. The tent went down in record time, and we were cantering west before the sun was fully up.

The land we traversed grew more and more tamed the further west we went. Trees and shrubs retreated to hedgerows, and the fields were squared off and scattered with last year’s stubble. Many were green with winter clover, though patches close to homes still harbored a few stalks of winter kale or hardy rosemary. Out of respect for the farmers, we kept to the lanes and paths, but saw few folk until the sun was higher. The folk we did see gave us a long look, and I hoped that I’d done the right thing to travel so openly. Perhaps I should have gone on ahead in more stealth, but it was too late to change our tactics now.

We stopped briefly at a stream for our luncheon, dried meat and such washed down with the cold water. Once Míriel was well fed and diapered, I took her in her swaddle. Our next stop would be Bilbo’s house.

By late afternoon, I spotted the inn where Uncle Thorin had stabled our ponies when we’d begun our journey to Erebor. The Green Dragon, it was. We had only another mile or so to travel, so we didn’t stop. I led the way up the path, already smiling.

“There it is!” I exclaimed. “That green front door? That’s it!” I halted Trellennan to point at Bilbo’s hole.

“We’re here?” Drennal asked, looking around. She looked at the smoke curling from the chimney. “I think your friend is home.”

My grin was wide as I climbed down from my horse. Tauriel alit as well, and held her arms out for Míriel. “I’ll knock.”

The Elves dismounted, but hung back a bit as I climbed the front walk. It had been over two years since I had been here last, and I savored my anticipation for a moment before I gave the door a hard rap.

The door swung open. Bilbo stood there in his warm robe made of velvet patches, looking rather sleepy. I made the same bow I had two years ago.

“Kili, at your service.”

Bilbo’s mouth fell open, his eyes widened, and he was frozen in place – until he threw himself at me to wrap his arms around me and hug me tight.

“Kili? Oh, Valar, it is you! Kili! But how – why – what are you doing here?”

“Visiting, of course. I have some folk with me, if it’s not inconvenient.”

He hugged me again, then pushed me at arm’s length to look at me suspiciously. “What... folk? Are they Dwarves? Did you bring more Dwarves with you?”

“Not entirely. Most of them are Elves.” I waved to Tauriel, who waved to our mates. “I think you remember Tauriel.”

Tauriel bent down to look inside, her face alight with delight. Bilbo rushed outside to hug her, then realized what she carried.

“Oh, oh, oh! Who’s this? It’s not – you didn’t –”

Tauriel laughed. “We did. This is Míriel, our daughter.”

Bilbo held out his arms eagerly. When Tauriel put Míriel in his arms, he cooed and exclaimed and almost danced, he was so excited. “Míriel? This is little Míriel? Oh, that’s much too big a name for such a little babe, isn’t it? You’re Miri, aren’t you? That’s right. Little Miri, come to visit your Uncle Bilbo! Oh, you are the best babe, aren’t you?”

Our mates had come up behind Tauriel by then, which Bilbo noticed despite his infatuation with our bairn. “And these are your friends, I see. Hullo! Bilbo Baggins, at your service! You’re very welcome, one and all.”

We introduced everyone around. Bilbo seemed to grow six inches, he was so delighted at the surprise we’d given him.

“Well, come, in, come in! You’re too late for tea, and early for supper, so we’ll just have to have both at the same time. Come in!”

“We’re ahorse,” I said. “Seven of them. Is there someplace to set them right for the night?”

Bilbo pointed us to a field just below his house. “That one should suit. There’s good water there, and a solid barn. Just let me nip around to the Gaffer’s to ask if he’s got stable space enough, and he’ll be all right. Just unpack here while I speak to him.”

He handed Míriel back to Tauriel, then ran inside to exchange his robe for trousers, shirt, and jacket, then he pattered down the lane. He was back by the time we’d unloaded, and led us down to the barn in the field himself. He was delighted to hold Míriel while we saw to the horses. Before long, he led us back to his snug home and ushered us all inside.

“Watch your heads on the chandelier,” he warned the Elves, as he led the way to the kitchen. “Now! Take off your coats and such. You’ll find plenty of pegs. And you can put your swords, knives, bows, arrows, quivers, and whatever other hardware you have down by the chest. Kili, I don’t have to tell you not to scrape your boots on my mother’s glory box this time, do I? Take your boots off if you like, actually. Now, would you like a nice sit down first, or would you like a little something to tide you over until supper? Tea, at least, and a few cakes?”

“Cakes!” Drennal exclaimed at once, and searched among the bags. She brought out the last bit of gingerbread she’d hoarded from me and Fallin and held it out to Bilbo with a bow.

“We brought you this from The Prancing Pony in Bree, Mr. Baggins. It’s called gingerbread, and it’s very good.”

“Bilbo, please,” he hastened to offer, and took the cake. “This is most kind of you, Drennal. I’m very fond of gingerbread.”

“You are?” she smiled. “Oh, good. I like it very much, too. Do you know how to make it?”

The rest of us laughed. “I think you might have another cooking student, Bilbo,” Tauriel told him. “She wants the recipe.”

“Which I shall write down for you after supper,” Bilbo smiled. “It’s very easy, and I shall be delighted to show you how to make it. Now, let’s gather around the table and have some tea. It won’t be so crowded as when Kili was here last, and no one will walk on the table this time!”

We gathered around the table while Bilbo bustled to get tea and more cake, then we had a long talk about how our traveling had been and all about Míriel. When the cake was gone, Bilbo had us all up and about to help with supper, and we soon sat down to two of his wonderful meat pies, a bowl of the last garden greens, soup, biscuits, and more cake. The Elves were impressed at his lovely red wine, and I was as full as I’d ever been. We shared the washing and wiping, if without so much dish throwing as teasing Dwarves preferred, then retreated to Bilbo’s comfortable sitting room with a last tray of nuts and cheese.

“No, of course, you must have the armchair by the fire, Tauriel,” Bilbo insisted, clearing away the books and papers from the other seats. And Drennal and Giriel, you take the others. I’m fine on this stool, and you lads sit wherever. There! Oh, I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to have you all here. My fellow hobbits think I’m odd now, ever since I came back from our adventure, Kili. Do you know they were in the midst of selling everything in the place when I returned? It was the worst trouble trying to get it all back. I had to buy some of it back, you know. I’m still missing spoons. I think Lobelia Sackville-Baggins got her hands on them, drat her! Anyway, I don’t get as many visitors now as I used to, so I can’t be happier to have you all here. You’ll stay a few days, I hope?”

“It would be good to rest a little, Bilbo, before the last leg of our journey,” Tauriel agreed, suckling Míriel contentedly. “If we are not too big an imposition.”

“Elves?” Bilbo scoffed, glaring at me in mock outrage. “Compared to Dwarves, certainly not. You didn’t come close to pillaging my pantry the way Kili and his lot did. Oh, I hope you’re not all traveling west to the Havens. Are you? Not with this sweet babe to look forward to?”

“We’re quite happy in Imladris,” I assured him. “I’m keeping a promise to my mother.”

“Your mother?” Bilbo repeated, surprised. He looked at each of the Elves in turn. “Do you need five Elves and a babe to help you keep a promise to your mother?”

Everyone laughed. Giriel leaned forward. “We’re his bodyguard, but not because of his mother. Rather the Orcs.”

Bilbo sobered. “Orcs?” he asked softly. “What... Orcs?”

We took turns to tell Bilbo about the party of Orcs we’d fought last summer, and of the Gundebad Orc we’d expected to meet in the skirmish but hadn’t. Then I explained about the promise I’d made to my mother, and brought out her rune stone to show him.

“You were there at Ravenhill, Bilbo,” I reminded him softly, when he handed the stone back. “You saw those Gundebad Orcs and what they did. It was bad enough that I couldn’t protect Fili and Uncle Thorin in the battle. But when Míriel was born, I couldn’t put off my promise to my mother any longer. So Tauriel worked out our journey, and my friends generously agreed to come with us, and here we are.”

“What will happen when your mother finds out you’re alive?” Bilbo asked solemnly. “Will you have to go back to Erebor?”

I shook my head emphatically. “My home is in Imladris now, Bilbo, with my _amrâlimê_ and bairn and friends. I won’t be a king, and my mother will have to accept that.” I grimaced. “Though she won’t like it, and I might be glad to have a bodyguard between me and her when I tell her.”

“She sounds... forceful,” Bilbo ventured.

“And don’t I know it,” I agreed. “Lady Dís is a force of nature.”

“She’s had to be, to deal with you and Fili,” Tauriel observed, smiling when everyone laughed.

“So... how, exactly, are you going to tell her?” Bilbo ventured.

I’m sure my expression was dubious. “I haven’t quite worked that part out yet.”

“I have considered it,” Tauriel inserted quietly, looking into the fire. She turned a thoughtful expression on me as I gaped at her.

“You have? How?” I was too surprised to be tactful, which made Giriel and Fallin both chuckle softly.

“By taking into account the nature of your lady mother,” Tauriel replied, her eyes twinkling.

“No, no, I didn’t mean how did you consider my mother – I meant what plan did you come up with?”

“Let us leave that to the morning, Kili. Let us keep tonight for visiting, and for resting, and leave our planning until daylight.”

“An excellent idea,” Bilbo concurred. “Please, may I hold Miri again?”

Tauriel passed her over, and I was quick to drape one of our ever-present towels over our friend’s shoulder. “There. She’s cute enough, but you don’t need to douse your shirt with the remains of supper.”

Bilbo gratefully accepted the towel before he put Míriel on his shoulder. Once she’d burped, we brought out her finger puppets and squeaky ball, and Míriel was happy to play with her friends. Bilbo was entranced, talking and bouncing her, doting on every giggle and chortle. I sat beside Tauriel’s chair, her hand caressing my hair as we watched the hobbit get to know our daughter and our friends, drawing them out until the hobbit hole filled with laughter. I leaned against Tauriel’s leg and dared to let down a tension I hadn’t known I’d harbored until now. No, we weren’t at the halfway point of our journey yet, and we still had to face my mother and the return trip home. But we had come a long way; we were in the company of a friend; and we were warm, well fed, and happy.

We talked long into the night, until I could no longer suppress a yawn.

“Oh, I’ve kept you too late, haven’t I? I’m so sorry, Kili. I’m enjoying myself so much that I quite forgot that you and your friends have traveled a long way. You’ll want to sleep, of course, so I’ll make up a place for you. I have plenty of guest rooms, so tell me what sort of accommodations you Elves need for the night. It’s cold out, but the garden has a nice view of the stars, or here is nice and warm, so what would please you?”

“A room would be welcome for Drennal and me,” Fallin said calmly, surprising me.

“For us, as well,” Giriel agreed, equally calmly. Tauriel and I exchanged looks, but said nothing. Bilbo sensed our undercurrent, but was too polite to ask more. He handed Míriel to me and stood up.

“I’ll set things to right, then,” he offered. “I’m sorry that the beds aren’t quite long enough for Elves, but I can make up some nice pallets for you straightaway. Just give me a few moments...”

“Let us help,” Drennal offered, and she and Fallin went with Bilbo. Giriel followed a moment later with Rhiannel, and Tauriel got up as well.

“I’ll see to ours, _a’maelamin_ ,” she offered. “You take a few moments with Míriel.”

She went after our friends. I climbed into Bilbo’s chair, listening to the quiet voices of my friends as they arranged sheets and pillows and pallets and blankets, and Bilbo fetched more wood for the fireplaces. My little daughter waved her hands at me, reaching for my nose, so I let her pat it, making funny noises, tickling her toes when she kicked her feet. I smiled at how domestic it all was. We’d been on the road for six weeks, and yet in just a few hours we’d all fallen right back into the habits of houses. I sighed, held my daughter close, and closed my eyes. I fell asleep in seconds.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Our company enjoys a lovely respite with our favorite hobbit while they plot the next part of their journey. Things are not, however, going so well for the Orcs, and it's making them very cranky.
> 
> Enjoy the lull. Things will get much busier very soon!

_Krugnash kept his followers steadily on the Dwarf’s trail. They were losing ground, and not just because Wargs couldn’t match the speed of the Elves’ magical horses. Hrashk’s Warg was lagging farther and farther behind. She was heavily pregnant, and while that hadn’t slowed their pace until now, it meant she was about to whelp. If she chose now to drop her runts, he’d have the other three Wargs eat them just to get them back to speed. Even that might not help them to catch up to their quarry._

_He didn’t speak of the other doubts that were growing in his thoughts. This trail made sense for Elves. He’d seen many of them travel west, and none of them had ever come back. Dwarves mostly traveled east. When the rare Dwarves came east, they traveled in caravans too big to attack, and they always returned. Even if the Elves ahead of him didn’t return, a Dwarf wouldn’t return alone, without others for protection. So was this thing he thought was a Dwarf really an Elf, after all, regardless of what it smelled like? Azog had been so sure it was Durin’s Heir, but why would the Heir have left the Dragon’s Mount in the first place?_

_Where did Elves go when they rode west? Was there a huge settlement of them ahead?_

_Krugnash spat a curse and bared his fangs, but he kept riding._

_* * *_

 

Kili made a comfortable picture when I returned from making up our pallet, sound asleep as he slumped in Bilbo’s favorite chair, feet propped up on the footstool to support Míriel against his thighs. When I came beside him, Míriel looked up at me and chirped inquiringly, waving at her father.

“Yes, _Taad_ is very tired, little one. Let him sleep.”

I went to gather her up, but Kili roused. “Is Míriel all right? I didn’t drop her, did I?”

I put a hand on his shoulder. “No, _a’maelamin_. Miri is fine. But you must go to bed. You are exhausted.”

“Miri,” he mused, and smiled sleepily. “It’s a good nickname.”

“It is, from a good friend. Come, Kili. You need to sleep.”

He went without protest, sighing as he lay down on the bed in Bilbo’s guest room. I curled next to him; the bed wasn’t long enough for me, but it would be comfortable enough until Kili fell asleep. It was a mark of his weariness that he had no inclination to couple, even given the rare gift of privacy.

“I’ll manage a better job of it tomorrow, Tauriel,” he yawned, stroking my hair.

“May it never be a job for you, _a’maelamin_. Restore yourself, and let tomorrow bring what it will.”

He snuggled into the blankets and my embrace, and was soon sound asleep. I rose, took Míriel with me, and we spent a quiet night in Bilbo’s sitting room, watching the stars overhead from the window.

Next morning, Kili slept late. Bilbo was up early, puttering about the kitchen, and he soon had several Elves to help him with breakfast. Afterwards, he gave Drennal and me a lesson about gingerbread while Fallin, Rhiannel, and Giriel went out to tend our horses. The gingerbread was almost ready to come out of the oven when Kili appeared yawning and scratching his head, a bright light in his eyes.

“That smells wonderful,” Kili exclaimed, swooping Míriel up into his arms to kiss her. “Good morn, little one! Do you want some of Uncle Bilbo’s gingerbread, Miri? I’ll sneak you a crumb, I promise. Good morning, _amrâlimê_. I’m sure I’ve missed breakfast, but I’ll try very hard to make do with cake.”

Bilbo laughed at the exaggerated suffering in Kili’s words. “You missed first breakfast, yes. But hobbits have a second breakfast as often as possible, so you won’t have to subsist on mere gingerbread. Eggs, perhaps? Bacon? Toast? Griddle cakes?”

“Don’t say anything more to him, or he’ll want it all,” I laughed, kissing Kili’s cheek as he grinned without apology.

“That’s because it all sounds good, and I know the skill of the cook,” Kili shrugged in self-defense. “I learned how to make a wonderful omelet from a friend that I’d be glad to show you, if it would help.”

It was Bilbo’s omelet, of course, and his smile showed that he knew it. “Do you? The eggs are there by the oven. Omelet for six, I imagine, ought to do us.”

Drennal fished the gingerbread out of the oven while Kili put Míriel on his hip so he could crack eggs one-handed into a bowl. The babe looked on with interest while her father found a pan and set to whisking and seasoning and pouring. By the time Rhiannel, Giriel, and Fallin came in from the stable, the omelet was set and ready to slice. Everyone sat down to another delicious meal.

After the washing up, we propped Míriel up on the table so she could watch us as we discussed our plans to reach the Blue Mountains. Bilbo brought out his stash of maps for us to consult. I noted fondly that one of the simplest was of the area around his home, showing his favorite walking paths marked in red ink. I set that one aside gently, and sorted through the others.

“Yes, this one will do,” I decided, and set the rest aside. It was a more extensive map of the lands around the Shire, including the lands to the west. The Grey Havens was clearly marked on it, but the Blue Mountains beyond were only vaguely indicated. We took a few moments to orient ourselves.

“Here we are,” Giriel pointed to Hobbiton on the map. Then she traced a finger across some ridges. “These downs lie between us and Mithlond – what you call the Grey Havens. The city is settled on both sides of the Lhûn River. It’s almost straight west of here, perhaps another hundred miles.”

I nodded. “Kili, can you add more about the _Ered Luin_ – the Blue Mountains – than is on Bilbo’s map? I know they fall on both sides of the Gulf of Lhûn and run north to south, but that is all.”

Kili leaned over the table to get a better view, smiling when Míriel patted his hair. “I think so. Bilbo, do you have something to write on?”

Bilbo fetched some big sheets of drawing paper, ink, and pens, then took up Míriel so we could spread the paper out for drawing. Kili drew the river on the paper, marked the Havens, then sketched in the mountains. “It’s a long chain of mountains. The Dwarvish settlements are all north of the Little Lhûn River, which is the western waterway that runs into your Lhûn River. There is a line of hills east of here, called the Hills of Evendium. I don’t know much about the area south of the Little Lhûn, though Dwarves used to live there, and Elves still do. The far north is sparser, mostly horse and goat herders. That’s where Fili and I did so many of our drover contracts. East of the mountains is mostly steppe land until you get to the hills. Further south, the land is more rolling. I lived here, in the middle, in Thorin’s Halls. That’s where _Maamr_ would be.”

Kili drew a dot on the map to place the Havens on the river. Then he drew the Little Lhûn and connected it to the Lhûn, and then the Hills of Evendium. Finally, he drew a dot for Thorin’s Halls, just at the western source of the Little Lhûn.

Fallin studied the map, then traced a long slender finger over it. “So we could take either of two paths. The first would go west from here to the Havens, across the river, and then straight north. Or we can go south of the Hills of Evendium, then northwest across to the river, and on to the mountains. Which way did you come with your uncle, Kili?”

Kili pointed to the second path Fallin had traced. “It’s a bit shorter to come this way. No one much lives there but the occasional reclusive Dwarf. Most of my folk live by the mountains. But fording the river will be harder for us.”

“How so?” Giriel asked.

Kili added one more line to his map, an eastern branch to the Lhûn River. “If we go south of this eastern stream, we have to cross the river only once, here below where they join. But the river is wide there, and a ferry crossing is prudent, especially if the spring thaw has started. Elves do venture that way, but you’d draw notice, and so would I being with you. Someone may also remember me as being in Uncle Thorin’s company two years ago. It’s farther to go to the Havens and then north, but Dwarves are common sights on that route, and of course so are Elves, and it’d be easier to get across the river without comment. Once we cross, we can head north, drifting east of the mountains to avoid notice until we get to Thorin’s Halls.”

I looked around the table, and spoke what I thought the consensus seemed to be. “So we should keep on the path to the Havens, then, and head north from there.”

There were nods all around. Drennal smiled shyly. “I’m glad we’re going that way. I know we need to be swift and silent, but I would be sorry to miss sight of the great harbor at Mithlond. I’ve heard tell of it since I was a child.”

“So have I,” Rhiannel agreed. “I, too, will be glad to see it.”

“Then we have decided this part of our journey,” I said. “Now, we must discuss how to approach Kili’s mother once we reach Thorin’s Hall. Kili, can you draw us a map of Thorin’s Halls?”

Kili took another sheet of Bilbo’s paper, and set to drawing. “You said last night that you’d given it some thought, _amrâlimê_. Will you tell us now what you’ve considered?”

“We will know how to get to your mother’s house, once you have drawn your map of Thorin’s Halls. Do Elves visit the city with any frequency, or will sight of us be considered odd from the start?”

Kili kept drawing, but his brow furrowed as he considered. “We did see them, not often, but frequently enough that the whole place won’t get into an uproar if they see you. Thorin’s Hall is where Uncle Thorin and _Maamr_ governed, of course, and anyone who wanted to negotiate a contract with our folk would naturally go there. Elves live to the south, and they have trade agreements for iron ore and gold that our folk take from the rock. They also contract for smithed products, from blades to household things. We buy food and textiles and such from them, so Elves in the village square are noticed, but everyone assumes it’s another trade party.”

“So emissaries from other lands would go there, yes?”

He looked up, his face clearing. “Yes, they would. And Lord Elrond made us his emissaries to the Blue Mountains, to tell my mother that he would welcome our folk traveling to Erebor who want to stop in Imladris on their way.”

“That’s perfect,” Giriel grinned, clapping her hands. “So now we’re emissaries!”

“Exactly,” I shared Giriel’s grin. “So we can come into the city, find a place that is somewhat isolated as our base, then a pair of us can present ourselves to Kili’s mother to convey Lord Elrond’s offer. Then we can say that we have a private word for her ears only that requires delicate handling, and persuade her to come to us alone. I will show her Kili’s rune stone if need be to convince her. Then she and Kili can meet, and they can say what is needed while the rest of us stand guard.”

“A good plan,” Fallin nodded.

“If you can convince her to go with you,” Rhiannel amended. “I don’t know how contentious Dwarvish government is, but will she think it’s a ploy by her enemies and so refuse to comply?”

“We could kidnap her,” Giriel blurted, then had the grace to blush. “Oh, I didn’t mean to say that. We can’t kidnap the leader of an entire folk. They’d shoot us where we stood.”

“They wouldn’t need to,” Kili observed wryly. “Maamr’s a sturdy maid, well able to hold her own against any Dwarf lad, and she’d likely raise lumps on all of us. But if the rune stone doesn’t draw her out, I’ll write something to hand her that’ll do the trick, I hope.”

“Maybe a sweeter tidbit would work,” Bilbo murmured quietly, waving a finger puppet at Míriel.

“Gingerbread?” Drennal joked, drawing our laughter, including Bilbo’s. But then he held up the finger puppet.

“Or a babe.”

Kili grinned, but it was an affectionate rather than a raffish expression. “She’ll like knowing she has a granddaughter.”

“We’ll make something of that if we can,” I agreed. “We have a good start to the plan. Once Kili finishes his map of Thorin’s Halls, we can decide where the best place to make our stand will be, and work from there.”

Kili worked on his map, added as much detail as possible, and he spent a long time describing what everything looked like, and how far it was between one place and another. He especially gave a thorough description of his mother’s house and the area immediately around it, as well as the council house where she typically worked. Bilbo put Míriel in Giriel’s hands to slip away with Drennal and Rhiannel down to the market for the makings of luncheon and supper. By the time they were back with a big basket of things, the rest of us were ready for a respite. We put away the maps, and took our leisure. Rhiannel and Giriel disappeared into their room. Drennal and I helped Bilbo in the kitchen. Kili took Míriel into the garden, then down to the stable with Fallin to look after the horses. We had a delicious soup and fresh biscuits for luncheon. In the afternoon, we took over Bilbo’s kitchen to wash our clothes, and his bathing chamber to wash ourselves. It was especially good to get all of Míriel’s diapers and gowns so much cleaner than we’d been able to with icy stream water. After one of Bilbo’s wonderful fry-ups, we sat together in the sitting room mending and patching as we told stories and played with Míriel.

“She doesn’t cry,” Bilbo marveled, as he lay on his belly beside her as she practiced rolling over and raising her head up.

Kili laughed as he threaded a needle to sew up a split seam in a shirtsleeve. “She never needs to, with all of us doting on her. She’s got us all so well trained that all she has to do is turn red in the face and someone’s already reaching for a clean diaper.”

Bilbo laughed. “I don’t think it’s just all of you doting aunties and uncles. She’s the happiest of babes in and of herself. Everything makes her laugh... nasty diapers excepted, of course.”

That brought laughter, quickly followed by more as conversation ebbed and flowed throughout the evening. Míriel got enough exercise for a dozen babes as the evening deepened, from Kili lying on his back to lift her above him like a flying bird, to Drennal singing counting songs to her. When she finally decided she wanted her nighttime snack, Drennal and Fallin decided to retire, and then Giriel and Rhiannel slipped away with quiet wishes for a good night. That left Kili and me to sit quietly with Bilbo by the fire. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh, smiling.

“Rivendell’s been good to you both,” the hobbit observed quietly as Kili sat by my chair. Kili nodded, and leaned comfortably against my leg.

“It has. I miss it, and I’ll be glad to go back there after we see _Maamr_.”

Bilbo smiled and cocked his head at Kili. “Do you know you have an accent now?”

“Do I?” Kili was amused. “We speak mostly Quenya now, that’s why. But you can’t complain about my table manners now, can you?”

“Thank goodness for that,” Bilbo teased. “I thank you for not walking on my table.”

“That was Fili,” Kili protested, “not me. And you can’t blame me for the belching contest, either. That was Ori and Bombur.”

“True enough,” Bilbo conceded. “Well, I’m off for bed. Stay up as long as you like. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He kissed Míriel’s head as she suckled, then mine. I kissed his hand in reply, and the little hobbit left the sitting room to us. We sat silently until Míriel was through her snack, then Kili took her to pat her back. I fetched a clean diaper for her, and soon she was happy to retreat to her nest in the bag of gowns by Kili’s bed, just as I was happy to lie beside my husband.

“Thank you, _amrâlimê_ ,” he whispered in the dark.

“For what, _a’maelamin_?”

“Everything. Finding me, saving me, marrying me, having Míriel with me, coming with me on this impossible journey...”

I nuzzled the ring in Kili’s ear. “If it were an impossible journey, we couldn’t have made it.”

He tsked quietly. “You know what I mean. It’s gone very well so far, and our friends have discovered the joys of coupling, which might mean that Míriel will have playmates who aren’t siblings before long. But it’s still the most generous thing anyone’s ever done for me, to go on this mad journey.”

“Would you feel better if I told you it was entirely self-serving?”

He turned to face me, his fingers stroking my hair. “How so?”

“The only reason I’m along is because it will allow me to call on your favors any time I desire them for the rest of our lives.”

He snickered. “Oh. I see. Entirely self-serving. Tauriel, have I ever told you what a terrible liar you are?”

“It takes a Dwarf to know.”

“It takes a Dwarf to reward you properly. Not one of those languid Elf lads.”

My Dwarvish husband proceeded to reward my misrepresentation so thoroughly that I resolved to lie much more often in the future.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. We've had a good, long dose of sweetness and light, but the Gundebad Orcs are about to do their damnedest to bring all that an abrupt end. Gird your loins, everyone!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> Nenime = February  
> Viresse = April

 

_Curse Dwarves, Elves, and all manner of vermin! Krugnash snarled. He’d lost the trail of their quarry when it vanished into the plowed fields of strange, half-sized creatures with oversized, hairy feet. Krugnash didn’t fear these soft, rounded, rabbity creatures what would make hardly a mouthful for his Warg, but there were enough of them that he didn’t want to attract attention. There was nothing they could do against four Gundebad Orcs and their Wargs, but they could attract attention of Elves and a Dwarf who could. He didn’t want a clear fight. He wanted an ambush._

_During the night, he’d tracked around the settlement of the small creatures hoping to find their prey’s trail on the other side, but they’d had no luck. Either the vermin were still within the settlement, which made no sense, or they’d slipped away, which spoke of magic. No scent could escape Orc or Warg, but neither had found the slightest trace of them. Frustrated, Krugnash made the best gamble he could, to lurk on the west side of the rabbity creatures’ settlement, and hope they spotted their prey heading westward._

_He hoped his guess was enough to keep Grugkal and Hrashk in line. Their grumbling had returned, and the proddy temper of Hrashk’s Warg didn’t help. She’d gotten slower and slower, but stubbornly refused to drop her pups._

_All for a Dwarf that might not even be one... If he ever caught up with this abomination, he’d do as he was bid and bring it back to Mount Gundebad, apparently unspoiled. There were many ways to vent his fury that wouldn’t show on the outside. On the long journey home, he intended to indulge in them all._

 

* * *

 

We stayed a full week with Bilbo, letting him fatten us up with all sorts of toothsome delights several times a day. Míriel loved her new playmate, who doted on her as much as the Elves did. He was right about how happy a bairn she was, and she made everyone around her happy. Such bliss wouldn’t last. She might revert to fretful, feverish misery when her tiny teeth started to come in, or perhaps she’d learn to scream when she tried to crawl or walk and fell down too many times. But that was to come, so for now, I basked in the happiness of a small mite and one more doting uncle.

Had Uncle Thorin been so gleeful with me? I vaguely remembered a time or two when I was very small, when he’d sung to me or wrestled gently with me by the fire, just like my Elvish mates did with Míriel. And he’d been a patient teacher, though stricter with Fili who was the heir. But the last years, particularly the one before our journey to Erebor, he’d been weighed down so much that such lightheartedness had been rare to see. He had taken the governing of our folk so seriously.

I put such thoughts aside today. We were packing to head for the Grey Havens, and then north to Thorin’s Halls. The town had been named after my uncle, and it was where he and _Maamr_ had led our folk for almost a hundred years before the journey to reclaim Erebor. I had not been born when Smaug had ousted the Dwarves, and knew nothing of it. Home to me, then, was the Blue Mountains.

I had mixed feelings about returning, mostly because Imladris was my home now. And of course there was _Maamr_ to face.

My mother loved me fiercely – better to say that she did everything fiercely, to be honest. She couldn’t have endured the loss of her home, most of her kin, the askance looks about who’d sired Fili and me, and the rigors of governing an exiled folk without being as strong as she was. But her love for me, and Fili before me, was even fiercer, because we were the last of her family. I didn’t worry that I’d find _Maamr_ a physical ruin, but whether the spirit inside her had dimmed.

If it hadn’t, then I was likely headed for the beating of my life. I smiled at that; I could outrun her, so I’d have a chance to wear her down before I let her catch me, and then she wouldn’t be quite so furious at me.

I drew myself back again to the task at hand, which was tacking up Trellennan. It was a good thing my horse was patient, and I was able to muse as well as tighten a girth at the same time.

When I led my tall horse out of the stable, Bilbo was standing with Tauriel and Drennal, and of course Míriel was in his arms. The hobbit was trying to put a brave face on our leaving, but he was too tenderhearted to make a real go of it. I wished the distance between Imladris and the Shire was not so terribly far, because it would be a joy to see our friend more often. But for now, all we could do was wish him well, and say that we would return home this way if we could, and so see him again soon. He had hugs for everyone, which the Elves returned just as tenderly, for they’d come to love him as much as Tauriel and I did. He had a packet of gingerbread for Drennal, who’d become quite enamored with it, and a basket of meat pies and other treats for the rest of us. No one really wanted to be the first to take the first step towards the horses, so brave little Bilbo did it for us.

“Well, it’s time you were off, so you have the whole day to travel. So off with you, and let me see what I can salvage out of the larder for myself until the next market day.”

He looked down at our bairn in his arms, and kissed the top of her head softly. “Good-bye, little Miri. Take good care of your _Maamr_ and _Taad_ , and think fondly of your Uncle Bilbo, who loves you very much.”

Tauriel gave him one last kiss, and reluctantly he gave Míriel back to her. “Good-bye, dear friend. You have our love, and our promise to return back this way if we can.”

“I know,” Bilbo, said, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I hope you can, one and all. I hope you do. Ride well, and safely.”

I hugged the hobbit hard, and found no irreverent words to say. “Thank you, Bilbo, for everything. And when you get tired of being a hobbit in the Shire, come be a hobbit in Rivendell with us.”

He nodded, and didn’t try to wipe his eyes. Neither did anyone else.

The pain of departure was too horrible, so we mounted quickly, gave the hobbit one last wave, and rode away.

 

* * *

 

_Hrashk was the first to notice the seven horses riding towards them. The Orc scrambled to his feet, his hand on his Warg’s harness, intent on the flash of movement. Krugnash realized a second before the rest that the six riders and following packhorse were the Elves they’d trailed for weeks. As Berqk and Grugkal got to their feet, Hrashk swung himself up on his Warg._

_“Hold!” Krugnash snarled at the trio. “We do not attack yet!”_

_“Why not?” Grugkal snarled back, livid at the order. “It’s them!”_

_“It’s them,” Krugnash agreed. “But we’re too near the settlement, and too far away to attack before the Elves can circle back. Better to attack once they’re too far away to run for protection.”_

_“I say we attack now!” Hrashk spat, his Warg growling dangerously at the open confrontation._

_“And I say otherwise!” Krugnash drew his bow and nocked an arrow in a fluid motion, pointing it at the angry Orc too quickly for him to do likewise. “We have their trail. We are too close to lose them now. Wait until they are in the open in a day or two, when they will have nowhere to run. Their pretty horses will not escape our Wargs, and we will feast on Elf flesh before we drag the Dwarf home to Gundebad.”_

_Krugnash didn’t know why Grugkal backed down, albeit with a curse. It would likely be the last time. Soon, Krugnash would have to do more than aim an arrow at the mutinous Orc._

 

* * *

 

We were subdued when we rode west away from the Shire. Even luncheon was subdued, for we had Bilbo’s last gift of treats to share, and with every bite, I remembered his warm smile, his quiet laugh, his infatuation with our babe. When Drennal opened her packet of gingerbread, I thought she would cry. But we soldiered on, recalled ourselves to watchfulness and speed, and rode on during the afternoon until the Shire was behind us.

The lands due west were called the Far Downs, as I recalled from Bilbo’s map. Kili had made a copy for us during our stay so that we’d have as good a guide as possible to gauge our progress. This part of our trip was easy, up and down over undulating folds of mostly grassland, with streams that ran in between them that harbored thickets of water shrubs, even willow trees and other plants that loved the damp. It was such an open land that the sky stretched overhead without interruption from horizon to horizon, making us seem very small in comparison. At least it discouraged any pursuit, if any remained, because it was too open to allow a stealthy approach. We’d have to be more on our guard in a day or so, because in the distance was the dark smudge of leafless trees, alluding to the Lhûn River ahead of us.

Still, the darkness of night would be cover enough for at least wolves or other such creatures, so we set a sharp guard on our horses and tent that night, and returned to our cold supper. In the morning, we were quick to pack up and ride on. We wouldn’t reach the Havens until the middle of the day tomorrow at the earliest, but we had no desire to delay even that arrival, and rode out with a will. We went back to our habit of luncheon at a walk in the saddle, and pushed hard during the afternoon for make as much distance as we could before we had to make camp. We set the watch as usual, and waited out the night.

Everyone was on edge when we got underway the next morning. The wide sky was overcast, the northern wind was blustery, and the air was damp and cold. It seemed more like early _Nenime_ than almost _Viresse_. Even Míriel was unusually fitful as I wrapped her in her swaddle, and the horses were nervous. We hastened to pack and eat, and climbed into the saddle with watchful eyes.

The first sign of attack was a sudden rush of air, then Kili’s grunt of surprise. His eyes went wide with shock and pain, and my stomach lurched when I spotted the black arrow protruding from his left thigh. All of us, even Kili, brought bows to bear, and we scanned the land for the source of the arrow.

“Orcs! Four of them!” Drennal shouted. “From the north!”

They were all huge Gundebad Orcs, on equally huge Wargs, flinging themselves silently at us at breathtaking speed.

“Lead rider!” Kili shouted hoarsely, naming his target, and his arrow flew into the breast of the Warg, tumbling the rider to the rough grass. He put a second arrow into the rider, straight through his head. Around us, more arrows flew, scoring hits on two of the remaining Wargs, neither fatally. Rhiannel got close enough to slash his sword at one of the Orcs, slicing him so deeply in the side that a lesser creature would have fallen in two. But the Orc kept his seat, if not control of his Warg, which leaped after Drennal with a snarl. When she tumbled off, Fallin went after the Warg with a cry, hitting it with another arrow. The Orcs faltered, broke, and turned tail cursing.

“Get up!” I screamed to Drennal. “Remount before they come back!”

She scrambled for her frightened horse, which had bloody claw marks on his hindquarters. Everyone was mounted, and Kili had tied a strap around his skewered thigh.

“Run!” Giriel howled. “Run for the Havens! Their Wargs can’t outrun our horses!”

No one argued. We turned tail and urged our mounts on to their best speed.

Oh, Valar, Valar, the next hours were nightmarish as we sprinted to the limit of our horses to reach the Grey Havens. I don’t know how Kili managed to stay in Trellennan’s saddle; perhaps the straps that compensated for his short legs added to his will. I looked back too many times, afraid to see Orcs behind us, but though I saw nothing, we didn’t slow. Close to noon, the masts of the Grey Havens rose before us, and we urged our tiring horses back to their best efforts to bear us there.

“Look for the ferry,” Kili panted as we slowed. He was grey, but he shook his head when I hesitated. “Get us on the ferry, Tauriel, before they catch up. They won’t be able to cross the river after us.”

“I’ll find it. Just keep heading for the river,” Giriel growled, hovering on Kili’s other side. “Drennal’s hurt, too. Maybe Rhiannel. I can’t tell. See if you can.”

She clattered off as our horses panted.

We followed as quickly as we could. I circled my horse around to Drennal; Fallin was beside her, talking to her softly. She had his torn sleeve wrapped around the lower part of her face, stanching the blood that still oozed from a long slit along her jawline. Rhiannel was beside Kili now, holding him in the saddle.

“Are you hurt?” I asked the Elf.

“One of the Wargs caught me a glancing blow. My shoulder’s bruised, but nothing else.”

It was likely more than a bruise, given the painful way Rhiannel held his right arm close to his body, but at least he wasn’t bleeding. I urged us on, following Giriel’s path towards the banks of the river. Giriel rode towards us, waving.

“This way!” she shouted.

In short order, we were able to lead our horses onto a wide ferry, which pushed away from the bank as soon as we rode aboard. As the bank fell away, I was off my horse and at Kili’s side. Giriel and Fallin were beside me, and we got Kili down from Trellennan and laid him on the deck.

“Don’t pull it out!” Kili begged us. “I’ll bleed to death. You’ve got to find an apothecary who can get the arrowhead out and cauterize the wound right after. A smith if you can’t find an apothecary.”

I realized belatedly that Míriel was screaming. How could she not, with so many of us in pain and hurting? I took her out of her swaddle and cuddled her in my arms to calm her, but Kili struggled to sit up against the side of the ferry.

“Give her to me. You see to Drennal and Rhiannel. I think he’s dislocated his shoulder, and she’s bleeding.”

My husband looked so pale, but Giriel got a bag off the packhorse and propped it behind his head, so he could sit up a little. I gave him Míriel and looked to my friends.

Only then did our surroundings register. I’d been too focused on Kili and our friends to take in the other passengers on the ferry, who had pressed against the sides to give our horses and us room.

“Are any of you an apothecary?” I asked.

A silver-haired Elf came forward. “I am not, but I can lead you to one when we reach the shore. What has happened?”

“We were attacked by Orcs some three hours ago. He was shot, as you can see. Another of us is badly slashed, and a third has a dislocated shoulder.”

One of the ferry attendants came to us. “We’re making the best speed we can to get you ashore, Lady. We’ll report the attack to the guard as soon as we dock.”

“I reported to the guard on the other side,” Giriel inserted, looking grim. “They know to watch out as well.”

It seemed to be hours before we reached shore, but in truth it was likely less than a half an hour. Kili lay still, Míriel against his chest, his eyes closed. She had stopped crying, but butted Kili’s chest repeatedly, anxious to see his usual bright expression. Fallin cradled Drennal, holding the cloth against her jaw, and Giriel had stripped some of Kili’s extra harness straps off to keep Rhiannel’s arm immobile against his chest. I squatted beside Kili, my hand on his shoulder.

“We’re almost ashore, _a’maelamin_. Hold on just a bit longer.”

He didn’t speak or open his eyes, but nodded and groped for my hand to squeeze it weakly. I took Míriel, who huddled against me with an uncomprehending expression and an anxious wave of her hands.

At last we docked. Our fellow passengers gathered around to help Giriel and Fallin to lift Kili up, careful not to bump the black arrow in his thigh. I put Míriel back in her swaddle and took my horse and Trellennan in hand; Rhiannel and Drennal helped each other up, and managed to snare the rest of the horses despite their injuries. The Elf who had come forward led the entourage past the dock to an apothecary just a street away. As they bore Kili inside, I handed the reins to Giriel and Fallin.

“We’ll stay the night, at least,” I said. “Would you find a place and a stable for the horses?”

Giriel nodded. “Look after our wounded. We’ll come back once we’ve settled the horses.”

“Thank you – no, wait a moment. Let me get our herbal bag. We may have something that will help.”

“I’ll get it.” Fallin hauled it off the packhorse, thrust it at me, and pushed me towards the door. “Go, Tauriel. Take care of Drennal for me, and Rhiannel for Giriel, and Kili for yourself. We’ll see to this.”

The Elves didn’t wait for my thanks, but gathered the horses and set off. I rushed into the apothecary, where Kili already lay on a table, his clothing cut away from the shaft. He was alert despite his paleness, and talking to the apothecary, an Elvish maid with pale grey eyes and silver hair.

“The arrowhead’s barbed. You’ve got to get it out completely, and don’t start until you’ve got the cauterizing iron hot, or I’ll bleed out.”

The apothecary smiled despite the seriousness of the situation. “You know your wounds, Master Dwarf, and so do I. I know how to take out an arrowhead, and I’ll spare you the hot iron if I can. We have herbs and other things to spare you the burning if I can keep the barbs from doing too much damage on the way out. You’ll forgive me if I tie you to the table first, for you are stronger than I am, and you don’t need to inflict more damage on either of us.”

“Do whatever you need to do.”

I watched my husband bound to the table. A rag went between his teeth for him to bite on against the pain. At the apothecary’s nod, several of the remaining bystanders pressed Kili down against the table. I held Míriel, so couldn’t help them, but I found his hand and squeezed it as the apothecary poured wine over the shaft to clean away the blood. His hand tightened on mine as the wine stung, and he sucked in his breath.

The apothecary washed her hands in the wine, and eased her fingers around the wound. As she inserted a finger into the wound, Kili’s body went taut.

“Try to relax at least your leg,” the apothecary bade him. “I would rather you scream than tighten so. It will help me ease the arrowhead free with less pain, and will cause less damage.”

Kili nodded, and with conscious effort let his left leg go limp. The apothecary directed two Elves to brace Kili’s leg above and below the wound to keep it still, then she resumed her probing. Kili’s hand tightened so hard on mine that I had to bite my lip to keep silent, but I wouldn’t take the comfort of my touch away. The Elf maid directed her assistant to add her fingers, which was so excruciating that Kili cried out. Now I understood the need to bind Kili to the table – he was too strong for Elves to hold down. Unperturbed, the apothecary directed her second assistant to draw gently on the shaft, just to guide the head out straight. Most of the pressure to remove the arrow came from her fingers pressed against its head, while the assistant’s fingers held the flesh away as the shaft came out. The head appeared, its flaring barbs showing why it had hurt so much to remove it. The apothecary kept her fingers in the wound to stanch the blood while she directed her assistants for various herbs and bandages.

“I have _athelas_ , if that would help,” I said quietly, drawing the maid’s grey eyes. “The arrow is an Orc shaft and likely poisoned, and _athelas_ is a great help against such things.”

“Dried or fresh?”

“Dried, unfortunately, but it is still potent, if not as much as fresh gathered.”

“It will be welcome. Quickly, before he loses any more blood.”

Despite her wound, Drennal came forward to take Míriel so I could find the right packet in our bag. I pulled it out and handed it to the apothecary, who had water waiting for it. More wine washed out the wound, wringing another cry from Kili, then a sizeable wad of the soaked _athelas_ went into the wound. A combination of various other herbs went next, then a sticky mixture of what looked like tree resin drew the outer edges of the wound together. The apothecary spoke softly over the wound, holding her hands over it to bring her healing focus to bear. Honey went over top of that, then a pad of bandage. A wrap of clean linen finished the surgery.

“I will see to the others now,” the apothecary said, moving from the table. “You can unbind him. I will mix him a draught for the pain once I have seen to the others.”

“Thank you,” I replied, and freed my hand from Kili’s so that I could remove the bindings that held him to the table. Then I took Míriel from Drennal so the apothecary could tend her.

“ _Amrâlimê_ ,” I whispered to Kili, squeezing his hand. “ _Amrâlimê_ , it’s over. The arrow is out, and the wound is bandaged.”

“Was the arrow poisoned?” he rasped.

“I don’t know yet. We treated the wound as if it were.”

He nodded. “How’s Drennal? Rhiannel?”

I looked behind me. Rhiannel’s shoulder had been reset, and his arm strapped to his chest. He had Drennal braced against his chest with his other arm while the apothecary stitched a long slice that traced her right jawline from chin nearly to ear. It was a wicked wound, and would leave a scar, but most of it would not be visible to casual view. I hoped it wasn’t poisoned.

“Rhiannel’s shoulder is strapped. Drennal is getting stitched now.”

Kili nodded. “You’re all right? Míriel?”

“We are both well. Fallin and Giriel will find us rooms and will stable the horses. We’ll stay at least overnight until we are a little recovered.”

Kili’s eyes met mine with urgency. “We can’t stay here, Tauriel. If my wound is poisoned, I’ll start to rave, and I have to reach my mother before then –”

I put a hand on Kili’s shoulder. “Rest, Kili. We’ll know about the arrow once everyone is cared for. And we need to rest tonight at least. We’ll move on as soon after that as we can.”

“I can’t come this far only to fail again, Tauriel!” Kili wrung my hand. “Even if it means that my folk know I’m still alive, it doesn’t matter if I can keep my promise to _Maamr_!”

“We will keep your promise, Kili. We will. But you have to rest now, or we can’t do anything. Please, _amrâlimê_. Please.”

His pressure on my hand eased. “All right. I’ll rest.”

I narrowed my eyes on him. “Promise me that you won’t do something foolish, like try to slither away to ride headlong from here to your _Maamr’s_ house.”

I was relieved that Kili smiled sheepishly. “You know me too well.”

“I do. Now, promise on your daughter’s head, or I’ll tie you to the table again.”

Kili shut his eyes. “I promise.”

In a few moments, Drennal and Kili had both downed a draught against pain. Giriel wormed her way inside to say that she and Fallin had stabled the horses and had found us a place to stay, and they were ready to get us there as soon as could be. I had a word with the apothecary about the arrow, and paid her for her services as well as a large gratuity in appreciation.

We borrowed a stretcher to carry Kili to our sanctuary, which was a whole floor of an inn with three rooms and a central common area. Giriel and Fallin had already hauled all of our gear up, and it lay in hastily deposited heaps as they’d hurried to return to the apothecary. Fallin had to carry Drennal the last few yards as her body sought to sink into the deep healing she needed. Rhiannel made it on his own feet, but he looked so wan that I had Giriel put him to bed right after Drennal. We transferred Kili onto the bed of the third room, and Fallin ran the stretcher back to the apothecary with our thanks. Once he returned, we closed the door to the rest of the inn.

The three of us still on our feet stared at each other blankly. Giriel was the first one to sink onto a chair.

“It happened so fast. I never heard them until they’d shot Kili.”

Míriel was quiet, but it had been so long since she’d fed that I automatically unfastened my tunic and slid the cloth aside for her to suckle. It calmed us both, and I found another chair to sink into so I could cradle her better. Fallin refused to sit, but instead looked out the window onto the street below. He looked back at the heaped gear, but didn’t touch it.

“What did the apothecary say about the arrow and the knife that cut Drennal? Were they poisoned?” Giriel asked.

“She thinks the arrow was not. It was heavy enough to cause most victims to bleed to death long before they die of poison. But Kili didn’t pull it out, and so avoided that. As for the blade, we can’t be sure, but the apothecary treated it as poisoned. She said that there was not the usual discoloration that would indicate poison, but better to guard against it.”

“What about Rhiannel?”

“His shoulder was dislocated. He will heal without problem.”

Fallin still stared at the gear.

“Fallin?” I asked.

“I believed you when you talked about the fight you had to make at Erebor. I did. But I didn’t realize, until today...” Fallin’s voice trailed away. “I’m going to sit with Drennal a while.”

“She will likely fall into healing trance,” I offered. “You know of this, yes?”

Fallin looked back. “I know of it, yes. But I’ve never seen it.”

“Warmth helps. Get into bed with her and hold her.”

He nodded and was gone.

“Do you think Rhiannel will trance, too?” Giriel asked.

“I hope so. It will help him heal quickly.”

“Then I’ll help him stay warm, too.”

I was alone in the room. Míriel lay quietly, finishing her meal. It was only midafternoon, but I lay limply in the chair, heavy and exhausted. I waited for Míriel to fill her diaper, found a clean one, and then went to Kili’s room. He didn’t trance the way Elves did, but to see him lie so quietly on the bed that was too big for him, made my eyes sting with tears. I lay down beside him and put Míriel between us, as much to comfort him as me. When his hand found mine, I stayed still, but let my tears fall silently onto the pillow.

Despite all our care, our vigilance, Gundebad had still struck at us. We had stopped one of them, but three remained. If they’d come this far, they would not turn back after a single death, and they would dog us all the way to Thorin’s Halls if they could.

And when we had discharged Kili’s promise to his mother, they would stand between us and home.

I shut my eyes, and took what solace I could in the warmth in my husband’s hand, the sound of his breath, and the hope between us that was our child.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Here's the last chapter before Dis makes her appearance. This chapter does, however, have a surprise guest. Hope you enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes
> 
> doh kro = birdbrain  
> undur kurv = ugly fucker (literally, fat whore, but I used a little creative license)  
> kurvanog arrow = fucking arrow

_Krugnash kicked Grugkal’s corpse with six weeks of frustration behind his boot, hard enough to break ribs, as if that mattered to a piece of meat. The bastard had rushed the Elves too early, shooting the short one – the only one Krugnash wanted to keep alive! – and alerting the rest in time to bring their bows to bear. He kicked the corpse again, this time in satisfaction. The maggot’s eagerness had cost him his life, and had removed a threat to Krugnash’s leadership. Grugkal had been the loudest voice of dissention, of challenge, and getting himself killed had saved Krugnash the trouble of doing it. Good riddance to him._

_He cursed Grugkal’s dead Warg, too. It wasn’t the pregnant one, and if it had lived, Krugnash could have killed the bitch to speed up their progress. But no such luck. Not that killing the bitch would have been easy. One of the Elves' arrows had hit his bow, shattering it beyond repair. He still had his scimitar, though. It would have been satisfying to kill the bitch with that._

_The bitch hadn’t been what kept him from following the Elves immediately. Hrashk had gotten himself cut nearly in two, and Krugnash’s Warg had taken an arrow in his shoulder. His Warg was strong and untiring, so he had taken time to extract the arrow properly so as not to lame the beast. The bitch had taken one, too, but it had done little more than score her foreleg, and the shaft had not remained in her leg. It wouldn’t slow her any more than her carrying already did._

_Once the Wargs had been seen to, Krugnash came to Hrashk again. The Orc hadn’t bled out yet, but he would in an hour or two. Krugnash didn’t have that long to wait. He took out his knife and slit the Orc’s throat, waited until the corpse stopped twitching, and stood up._

_Berqk leaned against his Warg, watching without comment._

_“Do you still believe that short Elf is a Dwarf?” Berqk asked without preamble._

_Krugnash thought before he spoke. Berqk was smarter than their two dead companions, good at holding his temper, and careful before he did anything to make sure he landed on the prevailing side. He was also sly, and Krugnash never quite knew what he thought. A good supporter... as long as the side he supported was successful._

_“He’s a Dwarf,” Krugnash replied. “Shit doesn’t lie.”_

_“If he’s a halfbreed, his own kind would reject him. He’s not the Heir of Durin because he isn’t pure.”_

_Krugnash had wondered about that himself. “Even if he isn’t fit to rule, he’s fit to die in front of his kind.”_

_Berqk nodded, showing his fangs as he grinned in anticipation. “So we follow him?”_

_“We follow him.”_

_“What about the bitch?”_

_“Bring her along. We’ll need a watchdog for the Dwarf when we have him.”_

_Berqk linked the bitch’s neck chain to his Warg’s harness, and rode west after Krugnash._

* * *

 

I had the strangest dream. I dreamed that I’d marched on Erebor with Uncle Thorin and Fili and a handful of other Dwarves, slain a dragon, and reclaimed a kingdom, only to have an army of Orcs descend upon us. Fili and Uncle Thorin were dead, and my people thought I was, too. A wondrous Elf maid had nursed me back to health. She’d fallen in love with me and swept me off on a flying horse to a wondrous kingdom where I’d become a gardener. I’d found a tiny bairn under a magical herb plant, and we lived with the wondrous maid in the garden where singing was always in the air –

“You’re dreaming, Kili,” a voice chided. “Come on, _br_ _àthair_. It’s late, and we’ve got to muck out old Eoin’s ram lot today. Get up, or you won’t get any breakfast.”

Fili? I thought he’d died at Erebor – but had I dreamed that? Was I dreaming now?

I opened my eyes. I wasn’t in my room in _Maamr’s_ house, or even Fili’s room. Sometimes we ended up in the same room if we’d had to sneak in late and _Maamr_ had heard us stirring. No, I lay in a room I’d never seen before, in a bed that was much too big for me, wearing Elvish clothes. A bairn lay next to me looking at me solemnly, and beyond her, the wondrous Elf maid of my dreams lay on her back, her hands folded upon her chest, eyes upcast as she considered the ceiling. Fili was perched on the foot of the bed, his knees drawn up, his arms wrapped around his shins, his chin resting on his knees. He looked at me with a familiar mischievous smile on his face.

“Go back to your own bed, Fili. That trick about Eoin’s ram lot was old twenty years ago.”

“It worked for twenty years before you thought it was old.”

“It won’t work now. I’m going back to sleep.”

His face turned serious. “You took a bad hit to your leg.”

“Go back to bed, Fili, and let me go back to sleep. Go bother Gimli or someone else.”

“I mean it, Kil. That Orc arrow was nasty.”

I pried open an eye. “What Orc arrow?”

“The one that was stuck in your left thigh until about an hour ago. From the Gundebad Orc. Remember?”

I snorted in irritation. “Mount Gundebad is eight hundred damned miles east of here, _doh_ _kro_. There’s not an Orc alive who can shoot an arrow that far.”

“The one that shot you was a lot closer. Come on, _br_ _àthair._ Get your head straight.”

I rubbed my eyes, ready to give my idiot of a brother a kick he wouldn’t forget. But as soon as I had the thought, pain shot through my left leg. The bairn beside me reached out to pat my cheek, smiling brightly and cooing.

Oh, Valar. Erebor, Ravenhill, Tauriel, Imladris, Míriel, the journey to keep my promise – it all came rushing back. Fili was dead, then. So was Uncle Thorin. I narrowed my eyes at the end of the bed, expecting to see nothing...

Fili still sat there. How in all of Middle Earth...

“I told you, Kil,” he sighed, nodding at my left leg. “That arrow was a nasty piece of work.”

“It was poisoned,” I decided. “I’m hallucinating.” I looked at Fili. “You’re dead.”

He nodded. “I’m dead. Damn Azog. About all I can say for it is that it was fast and didn’t hurt long. Bolg almost got you. I’m glad he didn’t.”

“Thank Tauriel.” I shut my eyes and lay back, feeling dizzy and nauseated. “And Prince Legolas. King Thranduil’s son. He finally killed the bastard.”

“Now you’ve got his mates on your tail.”

“Whose mates? Legolas’s mates?”

“Bolg’s, mates, stupid.”

“Oh. Likely.”

“Miri’s cute.”

“Yah. She’s the best bairn. If you were around, she’d pull your mustaches until you cried.”

“ _Maamr’s_ not going to like your _amrâlimê_ being an Elf.”

I winced. “We’re married, Fil. She’s my wife. Nothing _Maamr_ can say’s going to change that.”

“You’ve got bigger problems than that, Kil. That arrow was nasty.”

“So it was nasty. Find something else to harp about.”

“What’re you going to say to _Maamr_ , then, Kil? The Elf, the bairn, not being king under the mountain? What’re you going to say? And that arrow was nasty.”

“Valar, Fili, stop saying the same thing over and over! And leave the damned arrow out of it, or I swear, I’ll –”

“Kili?”

I jerked awake – or at least I think I did. I was still in the same unfamiliar room, but Tauriel leaned over me, her hand on my arm, her eyes wide with worry. I was soaked in sweat, my left thigh throbbed, and beside me Míriel’s tiny hand patted my arm over and over again.

“Tauriel?”

“You were talking in _Khazuduhl_ , then you cried out. Does your leg hurt you?”

“I dreamed Fili was sitting on the bed giving me a rasher of shit.” I pointed past my feet. “He sat right there and kept telling me that the Orc arrow was nasty. Over and over.”

The worry in Tauriel’s emerald eyes faded, but they were still veiled, not wanting me to know that the worry wasn't completely gone. She put her hand on my forehead, and then clasped my wrist to listen to my heart pump blood through my body.

“You’re feverish, _a’maelamin_. Just a little. The apothecary gave you a large dose of poppy, too, for the pain. Both can cause strange dreams. I’ll bring you some water.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

Tauriel glanced at me as she poured a glass of water from the carafe on the table by the bed. “Just a couple of hours. Here, I’ll help you sit up.”

Tauriel propped a pillow behind my head and sat beside me to help me sip the water. It was cool, and I felt better when the glass was empty. Then she took the pillow out and put me flat again.

“I want to stay up, Tauriel.”

“I want you to stay down,” she replied firmly. “The arrow left a –”

“If you say nasty wound, nasty arrow, nasty anything, I’ll curse,” I threatened.

“– large hole,” Tauriel forged ahead, giving me a quelling stare, “and you have a fever. The less you move, the less your body has to do to get on with healing that large hole. Now behave yourself.”

I muttered under my breath but stayed where I was, drawing my adamant wife to smile. Míriel patted my arm again as if to congratulate me for listening to reason. I drew her onto my stomach, and she pushed herself up on her arms to look at me, burbling and smiling. My irritation faded and I smiled at her guiltily and tickled her toes. She kicked vigorously, excited to discover something new to do with her legs.

“Is she trying to crawl?” I asked Tauriel.

“Perhaps. She’s mastered turning herself over, and look at this.” Tauriel swept Míriel off my stomach and plunked her down on her bottom beside me. Tauriel’s hands stayed around her waist, but lightly, and Míriel sat by herself for a few seconds, delighted at this new view of the world. Then she kicked her legs and fell over, but Tauriel’s hands caught her before she toppled over. Tauriel draped the bairn over my stomach again, with her legs kneeling beside me, and her tiny hands resting on my ribs. Míriel liked that so much that she gummed my shirt happily.

“She’s getting my shirt wet.”

“It’s already wet. You soaked it through. Now tell me how badly your leg hurts.”

“It’s fine. My, you’ve gotten proddy.”

Tauriel’s eyes flared. “Stop being a Dwarf, and stop trying to divert me by picking a fight. Tell me how your leg feels.”

“I said, it’s fine.”

Tauriel’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Kili, husband to Tauriel of the Woodland Realm, father of Míriel, son of Dís, and dark child of the lowest abyss, I have watched an Orc’s vicious arrow skewer you like a rabbit, beseeched the Valar to hold you in their graces long enough for me to get you to sanctuary, seen an apothecary tie you to a table to remove that vicious arrow, and watched over you until you awoke. I am still watching over you to make sure that you show no signs of poison or infection, and I will not tolerate a single moment of Dwarvish bravado while I do so. Do I make myself clear?”

I blinked. “Valar, maid. I think you did my mother one better with that tirade.”

She leaned over me to growl, “Do I make myself clear!”

I made the tiniest shrinking movement deeper into the bed. “You do.”

“Then tell me how your leg feels, as well as the rest of you, and right now!”

“It throbs, and it hurts. But it doesn’t burn, and the rest of my leg feels all right. There’s no swelling in my groin. I’m a bit dizzy from the poppy, and my stomach is a bit queasy, likely from the poppy, too.”

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Tauriel sat up, putting her hand out to stroke Míriel’s hair.

I took her hand to kiss it humbly. “I’m sorry to worry you, Tauriel. I am.”

She didn’t look at me, and anyone else would have thought she was furious. But she was a warrior, and had only vented her fear for me, and that was as much a grace as were her tender caresses.

“You should be. You have a wife and child who love you, and want to care for you. Don’t get in the way of us caring for you.”

“I won’t again. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Then tell me the truth straightaway next time.”

“I will.”

She kissed me quickly, then busied herself arranging Míriel’s gown.

“Did the apothecary say the arrow was poisoned?”

Tauriel shook her head. “She said she thought not. It was a heavy bolt, designed to make its victim bleed to death when the bolt was pulled out of the wound.”

“How are Drennal and Rhiannel?”

“Both in healing trance.” She smiled suddenly, a fond expression. “I told Giriel and Fallin to crawl in bed with them to keep them warm. I don’t expect to see them until the morning.”

“Are we moving on tomorrow?”

That adamant look was in her eyes again.

“Those Orcs won’t run off, Tauriel. I’ve got to get to _Maamr_ before they catch up with us again.”

The fierce light faded, and Tauriel sighed. “I know. Both Rhiannel and Drennal will heal quickly, I expect. You will stay in bed until they do, and then we shall see. You’ll be no good to anyone, including yourself, if you can’t sit a horse, because if we’re hit again, the speed of our horses may be the only thing that spirits us away. So if you want to travel sooner, you must stay quiet, take your medicine, and behave yourself.”

“I will. I promise.”

“All right.” Tauriel’s body finally relaxed out of its warrior alertness, and she stroked Míriel’s back gently. “I’ll look in on the others, and then I’m going out to find some hot supper. Drennal and Rhiannel won’t need any, but the rest of us will. So please, Kili, please, rest until I get back. Play with Míriel. Don’t even try to change her diaper if she soils it. She’ll survive until I get back.”

“I don’t like you going out alone.”

“I would take someone with me if Drennal and Rhiannel didn’t need them more. This is an Elvish city, and there will be no Orcs on its streets.”

I had to accept that, so I nodded with good grace and let her go.

I hoped she found meat pies, and perhaps some gingerbread.

 

* * *

 

When I looked in on Rhiannel and Giriel, I was glad to see that both were awake. The afternoon had been enough for Rhiannel’s shoulder to recover, and both he and Giriel were glad to join me in a quest for supper. Drennal was still in healing trance, so we told Fallin where the three of us were going, and set off. We quickly found several places nearby that would sell us a meal to take back our inn, so we bought things and hurried back so it would still be warm when we ate it. Giriel took something in for Fallin, and I gathered Kili’s and my portions to take in to him. Rhiannel and Giriel shared theirs out in the common room.

Kili was happy with the packet of small meat pastries, apples, and wedge of cheese I brought him. Of course in an Elvish city I had found salad, but I was too concerned about Kili to eat it. I let Kili sit up a bit to eat his, and sat beside him as Míriel played with her squeaky ball between us. When Kili was done, I held up the draught of poppy.

“A spoonful, _a’maelamin_. It’ll help you to sleep, which will help you to heal.”

He grimaced, but didn’t argue. He tossed the dose down, grimacing and shuddering. “Ugh, that’s vile!”

“Which is why I gave it to you before the sweet.” I unwrapped a confection made of thin leaves of pastry layered with nuts, fruits, and honey. “It’s very sweet to get rid of the vile taste.”

Kili took his slice, dipped his finger in the syrup, and held it out to Míriel. She grabbed his finger and gummed it enthusiastically, humming in ecstasy. He laughed to see our babe so entranced, and drew her into his arms. When he winced, though, I touched his arm.

“Kili, your leg.”

“I want to hold Míriel, Tauriel. It won’t be for long, because the poppy’s already making me sleepy. So I’ll be forced to behave in a few moments. Let me enjoy my two beautiful maids until then.”

“Then eat your sweet before you are too drowsy to chew.”

He took a huge bite, chewing with a bit of a grimace. “It’s very sweet. But I can still taste the poppy.” He took another bite. “Better. One more ought to do it.”

He enveloped the last bit in a huge bite, smiling mischievously at me for his manners, but I didn’t care. To have him at all, bad manners or no, wounded or no, was a gift I was very grateful to have. That must have showed in my face, for his grin faded into something tender, and he stroked my _amrâlimê_ braid.

“Don’t worry, Tauriel. I’ll live to endure my mother’s scolding and then some. I hate to think what it’ll be like when the two of you join forces to berate me.”

“Then lie down and go to sleep, so that you can face a unified front as a healthy Dwarf.”

He wiped the crumbs off his face with the pastry wrapping, drained his water, and let me help him lie flat. He gave Míriel a goodnight kiss, then me.

“I hate to waste a private room just to sleep in it,” he teased, though his eyes were heavy.

“Then heal so we don’t have to, _a’maelamin_.”

His eyes closed, and he eased into sleep.

I kissed his forehead, and slipped out.

Giriel and Rhiannel were still nibbling the remains of dinner when I came into the room, and looked up at me in inquiry.

“How is Kili?” Giriel asked.

“Fussing, which is a good sign, I suppose,” I sighed.

“Have you eaten?” Rhiannel asked, pushing the packet of greens towards me.

“I bet you haven’t,” Giriel said. “You’ve been worried about Kili. Sit down and eat something so you don’t wear yourself out trying to get him to lie still.”

Giriel knew me too well, so I came to the table. The Elf maid held her arms out for Míriel, and was happy to bounce the babe on her knee while I foraged.

“How is your shoulder, Rhiannel?”

He moved it in an arc, showing me that he had suffered no lasting effects of his fall. “I’ve never experienced healing trance before. As long as I stayed warm, everything healed so quickly.”

“Good. How is Drennal?”

“Fallin said she was rousing. I think she’ll be fine in another few hours, though she’ll have a scar.”

“So as soon as Kili’s leg can keep him in the saddle, we can journey.”

Rhiannel slid some of the supper wrappings aside to reveal the map Kili had drawn for us. “Giriel and I were talking about that when you came in. We think it’s just another sixty or seventy miles to the Little Lhûn. The Dwarvish settlements don’t start until you go north of the river; until that point, they’re all Elvish. We were thinking that we should keep close to them, because the Orcs won’t venture close to them. There are just two of them left.”

I nodded agreement. “Kili shot one of them and his Warg; you wounded a second so badly that at best he won’t be able to travel, though I think he’s dead. The Elves won’t know or care about who Kili is or why he’s with us, so we can stay close to their settlements. Thorin’s Halls is just north of the river, at the edge of the foothills.”

“The Orcs will likely stay east of all the settlements,” Giriel added. “If we can enter from the western side, furthest from the plain, we’ll have the whole settlement between them and us. We can find an inn, smuggle Kili in, and then set about finding Lady Dís.”

“How long do you think it’ll take Kili’s leg to heal enough?” Rhiannel asked.

“Longer than he wants, and less than it should be,” I admitted. “I’ll know more in the morning. He ate well, and at least saw the wisdom of resting now and taking his medicine.”

Giriel snorted in a most un-Elflike manner. “Then he’s sick. Any time Kili goes along with resting and taking medicine, he’s sick.”

We shared a wry chuckle. “He’s anxious to discharge his debt to his mother. It’s weighed on him so long that it’s become a burden, so I won’t insist that he keep to his bed if at all possible. If I can keep him quiet tomorrow, then perhaps we can go on the next day.”

Giriel’s grin was sly. “If he gives you any trouble, tell him that Rhiannel and I will help you tie him to the bed so that he behaves. That apothecary was on to something!”

It felt good to laugh, to lose a little of the tension that had tightened my chest since a black Orcish arrow had stabbed Kili. I helped Rhiannel clear away the empty food packets, and we arranged our gear out of the heap by the door. We talked quietly of inconsequential things for some hours, with Míriel happy to play beside us. It was late when my comrades retreated to their room, and I suckled Míriel for her late snack. When she was full, clean, and ready to rest, I slipped into Kili’s room, and eased beside him. He slept deeply, without stirring when I lay beside him. Míriel nestled between us quietly, kicking under her gown a bit. She’d be crawling soon, and then we’d have a time chasing her.

I wished we were back home in Imladris, waiting for the warming earth to waken our garden – in Imladris, where my _a’maelamin_ was safe.

 

* * *

 

When Tauriel left me to sleep, I stayed awake just long enough to be glad that she’d never asked me about what Fili had said in my dream, about _Maamr_ not liking my wedding an Elf, fathering an Elf bairn, giving up my place as king under the mountain. Poppy dreams often did that, giving voice to one’s worst fears...

“So you _have_ worried about it.”

Fili sat on the end of my bed again.

I groaned. “Fil, you’re dead. I love you more than you’ll ever know, and I miss you even more, but right now you’re being a right bastard. Go away.”

“That arrow –”

“Was nasty. I know. But Tauriel says it wasn’t poisoned, it didn’t hit a blood vessel or a bone, and they got the head out whole. The wound will heal fast.”

“Well, that’s something.” Fili looked relieved. “One of us has to get out of this, Kil, and since I didn’t, it has to be you.”

“I’m doing my best.”

“So what are you going to say to _Maamr_?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t want her to suffer any longer thinking she’s lost all of us, that’s all. And I think she’d like to know she’s got a granddaughter.”

Fili chuckled. “I hope so. She’s going to be right pissed at you.”

I groaned again. “You think I don’t know that? Valar, I’m never taking another dose of poppy. You’re such an ass.”

“How am I being an ass? You know she’s going to be pissed.”

“I’m not fit to be king, Fil. You were. I’m not. Our folk are better off with Dain, and if you were still alive, you’d agree with me. In fact, if you were still alive, you’d be king, and I wouldn’t, which would be a damned good thing. Now go away, and let me sleep so I can heal this hole and get on with finding _Maamr_ so she can do her worst.”

“That was a nasty –”

“Go _away_ , Fili! I love you, now bugger off!”

He laughed as he faded from sight, and I fell asleep before I could either curse or miss him.

 

* * *

 

I managed to keep Kili in bed all of the next day, but only because he wouldn’t stay any longer than that. He got up only to avail himself of a chamber pot, and he sat in his enforced stillness with the patience of a racing dog just waiting for the leash to slip away. He ate well, drank lots of water, played quietly with Míriel, and talked with our comrades when they visited him. But when he got up the next morning, he eased into the common room, carefully trying out his leg.

“It’s sore, but seems strong enough,” he said as we sat around the table. “Oh, good. Is that breakfast?”

He had a kiss for me and another for Míriel, then sat down to slake his hunger.

“I want to see your wound before we decide whether we’re traveling today or not,” I said.

“Of course,” he replied entirely too agreeably. “Drennal, Rhiannel, I hope both of you are well.”

Drennal nodded, touching her scar gingerly, and Rhiannel moved his shoulder easily in answer.

“I don’t heal as fast as you, but I’m good to get to Thorin’s Halls. It’s what, another sixty miles? Two days?”

“Just that,” Giriel agreed, and told Kili what we’d decided about holding close to the Elvish settlements until we reached Thorin’s Halls, and entering the Dwarvish settlement from the west. Kili nodded agreement as he consumed a hearty breakfast, then he let Giriel and me check his leg wound. It was still red and raw, but the wound was closed, cool, and without sign of infection. I smeared more of the healing herbs on it, then the honey to keep it sweet, padded it well, and rewrapped the linen bindings around it. We packed up our gear, made our way to the stables, and prepared for travel.

As we rode out of the Havens and turned north, I hoped the Valar found the compassion to keep Kili’s wound sweet, our travel swift and unnoticed, and the weather mild.

 

* * *

 

It took three hours before my leg started to ache, but by then we were too far north of the Grey Havens to turn back. I kept silent in case Tauriel thought differently. Staying at the Havens any longer would give the Gundebad Orcs that much more time to sniff us out. If I thought my leg hurt now, just sitting atop Trellennan doing a swift canter in as close to a straight line as the land allowed, then the abrupt turns and swerves of a cavalry fight would be far worse. So I kept quiet, did what I could to ease my leg, and made sure that I didn’t limp into the inn at the end of the day enough to attract attention. I helped with the horses, carried my share of the baggage, and held Míriel so Tauriel could have a few moments to tend to herself. The ache was enough to suppress my usual appetite, but I ate anyway, and when we finally shut the door on the rest of the world for the night, I lay down on the bed, grateful not to have to move any more.

“Are you so eager to move on tomorrow that you intend to sleep in your clothes?”

“Bugger you, Fili,” I muttered.

“Did you say what I thought you did?”

That wasn’t Fili – that was Tauriel. At least she sounded amused. “What? Oh, I’m sorry, _amrâlimê_. I thought I was dreaming about Fili again.”

A hand pressed against my forehead, and another caught my wrist. I caught Tauriel’s wrist in my hand. “I’m all right, Tauriel. Just tired. I fell asleep for a moment, and thought I was dreaming.”

“You’re warm. Tell me, how long has your leg hurt you today?”

“All day, all right?” I growled. “An _undur kurv_ of an Orc shot a _kurvanog_ arrow into my leg, and it’s going to hurt for a while. It won’t keep me off a horse tomorrow.”

She held up her hands. “All right, Kili. It won’t. I’m sorry you hurt, but I’m not sorry that I care that it hurts.”

I swallowed. I hurt to my bones and I was exhausted, but Tauriel didn’t deserve me lashing out at her for either of those two things. “I’m sorry for snapping, _amrâlimê_. I’m tired, and I want to sleep. I hope I don’t dream about Fili again. He’s been an ass so far.”

“How many times have you dreamed about him?”

“A couple. Because of the poppy, I think. So as long as I don’t have any more, I shouldn’t dream about anything.”

“I’ll help you undress, then you can sleep.”

“I’m not so incapacitated that I can’t undress myself.”

Hands tugged on my coat anyway. “I know, Kili. But I’ll help you, anyway.”

I gave up, too tired to argue with a maid whom I didn’t deserve. I let her help me out of my clothes and lie down. When she touched the bandage on my leg, though, I caught her wrist. “Leave it alone, Tauriel. I’m tired, and it’ll wait until the morning.”

She sighed. “Then sleep well, _amrâlimê_. I’ll be in later with Míriel.”

“I love you.”

“I know. Now sleep.”

She retreated and I heard the door shut. I lay there in the dark, and didn’t look to see if Fili sat at the end of the bed. I was too tired to talk to him.

I heard him laugh as I fell asleep. Let him. Tomorrow I’d be in Thorin’s Hall to see my mother, and I needed every moment of sleep I could get.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Lady Dis is in the building!
> 
> Here's the first part of the fun, in which Tauriel shows that putting up with King Thranduil for all those years was good for something.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes
> 
> kurvanog lulgijakone = fucking Elves, literally fucking flowers in the blood  
> leibz skarrenruf izril = your blue jewel

 

 _“What the_ kurv _is that?” Berqk drew up his Warg to a skidding stop._

_Behind him, Krugnash barely kept his Warg from crashing into the back of the pregnant bitch. He cursed the beast, swinging his Warg’s neck chain like a flail to flog the beast out of his way. She went with a snarl and a snap, but she gave enough ground that Krugnash’s Warg shouldered by her to stand beside Berqk._

_“It’s a port._ Kurvanog lulgijakone _!” Krugnash spat._

_“The river is wide, and there is a settlement on the other side,” Berqk observed, hissing._

_“We go upstream, then. Find a place to cross.”_

_“What if the Dwarf stayed in the city?”_

_“Why would a Dwarf stay in a city belonging to the_ kurvanog lulgijakone _?”_

 _“Why would a Dwarf travel with a lot of_ kurvanog lulgijakone _?”_

_Krugnash couldn’t answer that, and it made him angry. But something told him the Dwarf wouldn’t stay in the city. His journey reminded him too much of required duty, like what had compelled the Mirkwood scum, Snaga, to travel to and from Gundebad. Elves couldn’t compel a Dwarf. Only Dwarves could. Dwarves were in the north._

_He gave Berqk a close look before he led the way north by the river. He didn’t see any signs of defection... yet._

 

* * *

 

Kili slept late the next morning, which worried me as much as it relieved me. He’d been exhausted last night, so much so that I’d been sure his leg had taken a turn for the worse. He hadn’t let me touch it, either, which reinforced that worry. But if he’d slept so soundly, then he was restoring himself, and his leg was improving. Valar, I’d thought being on the horns of the moon was frustrating, but being on the horns of worry and hope was far worse!

I hadn’t liked the driven expression on his face last night, either. He wanted this ordeal over, but no more than I. I needed to take strict hold of myself before I resented my marriage mother before I ever met her. If she so much as raised her hand against Kili, I’d...

Oh, I already did resent her. This did not bode well for any of us.

I wished I knew some of Kili’s Orcish swear words, or Dwarven ones. They might have offered me a way to vent before I added my roil of emotions to an already overwrought pot.

The other Elves and I took breakfast in the inn’s common room, and I bought a huge meat pie to bring to Kili for his breakfast. We didn’t linger over the meal, but I didn’t have to be concerned. I returned to our room to suckle Míriel and play with her quietly well before Kili rose. When he did sit up, it was stiffly, with a groan.

“Good morn, _a’maelamin_ ,” I murmured, rolling Míriel’s squeaky ball back to her. She was sitting up on her own on the floor, though was well braced with pillows in case she tumbled over.

Kili looked over the side of the bed. “Good morn, _amrâlimê_.” He looked tired, still, but mustered close to his usual bright smile for our babe and me. “Hullo, Míriel! Look at you sitting up by yourself! You’ll be crawling soon!”

He stretched a hand down to fluff her hair, then touched mine in affection. I caught his hand to kiss it, then got to my knees, leaned over the bed, and kissed his lips.

“How are you this morn?” I asked lightly.

“Tired,” Kili admitted. “My leg is stiff, but I don’t think it’s too bad. Not enough to keep us off the path, anyway. I want this done.”

“So do I, _a’maelamin._ I brought you breakfast.”

Kili’s eyes flitted to mine, and his brow furrowed. “You’ve already eaten? Did I sleep late?”

“Not late enough, to my mind, but later than you wanted, likely. I found a nice chicken pie for you.”

Kili swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing only a little. Still, he was a Dwarf, and any wince at all meant he hurt more than was prudent. But we were close, and I hoped his mother would find enough compassion for her son that he would have a few days to rest and heal properly.

What if she was so furious that we had to beat a swift retreat?

I reminded myself that Thorin’s Halls was just north of many Elvish settlements, and if we had to flee, we’d have ample places to hide from her. And the Orcs, who were surely still out there.

I didn’t like having so many threatening unknowns. But there was nothing to do about them but go on. At least Míriel had been in no danger so far.

So far.

For just a moment, I remembered my life in the Woodland Realm, where I’d had no friends, no confidants, no change, and no dangers that were not clearly defined or understood. It had been a simple life – simple, because I’d had nothing, not to lose, to gain, or even to hope for. The price of the abundance I had now was more worry. I had to remember all the good things to keep the terror of the unknown at bay.

I’d sharpen my knives this morning, too. Hope and memory were two things; the comfort of a sharp blade was another.

Kili limped to the corner to use the chamber pot, keeping his back to me, but the courtesy was as much for himself as me. Usually he chose to find the public necessary rather than use the chamber pot in front of me; that could only mean that his leg hurt enough that he was marshaling every scrap of strength for the coming ride. I kept my worry to myself as I gathered up Míriel and put her on the bed to play. She giggled and cooed with her usual good humor, but that didn’t bring the usual delighted smile from her father. He did sit next to her to eat his pie, but his appetite was off, for he ate slowly, and without his usual enthusiasm.

He met my eyes with a resigned expression. “You watch me like a hawk watches the vole she plans to eat for supper.”

“You’d be disappointed if I didn’t. You know how much you love a maid to fuss over you.”

His lips curved in a trace of his irreverent smile. “I won’t love it if you ask to put gravy over me.”

“You won’t love it when I ask to change your bandage, either. But that I do intend to do.”

He leaned back against the headboard and pillows, stretched out his leg, and continued to munch his pie. “Have at, then.”

I got his trews down, and the linen around his leg untied. Kili made no comment, not even a salacious one, which further worried me. I decided that the urge to reach his mother was the cause, rather than a worsening of his wound, and I had to admit that the injury looked reasonable, despite the abuse of yesterday’s travel. It was red, but I felt no heat other than Kili’s usual, and the scar was closed, without discharge. I cleaned it carefully, recovered it with the herbal paste and honey, padded it well, and retied the linen.

“Satisfied, my beautiful apothecary?” Kili asked.

“For the moment. I’ve already talked to Giriel and Fallin. We think we have about twenty miles before we reach the river. We want to enter Thorin’s Halls from the west, because we think the Orcs will be staying to the east to avoid the Elvish settlements. Once we cross the river, you’ll need to get us to an inn on the west side, and we will hunker down there. Fallin and I will approach the council hall, and see what we can see.”

Kili nodded. “All very well reasoned. I’ve been thinking about how to convince _Maamr_ to come with you to meet me, so I’ll have something for you to take with the rune stone when you and Fallin go to the hall.”

“All right. Now, Míriel is fed, and clean, and would like to play with you while I take our baggage down to the stable.”

“Yes, master,” Kili quipped, making an impudent face. That was close to his usual humor, so I took heart. “I shall behave myself with the other bairn with all due decorum.”

I took up our baggage, stuck my tongue out at him, and headed for the stable. His laugh followed me out.

 

* * *

 

Thank the Valar Tauriel finally took herself off to the stables. It’d been harder than I liked keeping my expression calm and my words light. Yes, my leg bloody well hurt, and yes, I knew there were Orcs lurking somewhere very interested in killing me in all sorts of horrific ways. But more nerve-wracking was the fact that I’d see _Maamr_ today. If that didn’t make me gulp, nothing ever would. I didn’t think she’d resort to quite the rigors that the Orcs would, but she might.

I played quietly with Míriel. She was kicking hard now, and able to rock back and forth in a crouch that would turn into a crawl as soon as she sorted out how to move her legs and arms in the right order. Maybe if we’d stayed in Imladris, she wouldn’t have had to spend so much time in a swaddle, and she would have learned already. But we hadn’t, we were almost to Thorin’s Halls, and with any luck we’d be home again in two months. Then Míriel would have our garden to play in, and two parents who weren’t keeping their focus on journeys, Orcs, mothers, or anything else. I took a deep breath. When we got home, I would do something to show Tauriel how much I treasured her. She’d had faith enough in me to come all this way, and now she was about to brave a meeting with my formidable mother on my behalf. No maid had ever done more for her _amrâlimê_ , and never would.

Soon we were back in the saddle, cantering out of the port city and away from the Lhûn River, heading northwest, directly for the southernmost mountain in the northern range of the Blue Mountains. We’d actually skirt the eastern side of it and then head directly north in the shadow of the peaks. We planned to stay far enough east of the peaks where the land was flatter and easier to traverse, than the foothills so we could make the fastest time possible. At this point, our horses were used to long stretches at pace, but it would still take time to cover twenty miles as the crow flies over such rolling land. With all the ups and downs, the distance for our horses was closer to thirty miles. Still, this side of the mountains was dry and the scrub was short, so the horses kept to a steady canter.

It was full April now, warm enough that I was hot in my heavy coat, but I kept it on. I had Míriel for this stretch of our journey, and I hoped that the folds of my coat helped obscure sight of my daughter to casual eye. My leg ached, but I ignored that, too. Normally, I would have greatly enjoyed the thrill of Trellennan’s long stride over such familiar land, but the straps that helped me sit such a tall horse kept a constant tension on my thigh, and the ache grew harder to ignore. I put myself in the trance that I’d resorted to so often as a young Dwarf under Master Dwalin’s tutelage when he’d have his charges run and run and run... and then run and run and run some more. A lot of Dwarves might call me ugly, but not a one of them ever, ever called me weak. On a mere twenty-mile canter, I would not be the one to call halt.

At least bravado gives you something to laugh about when you just want to lie down and have a pint of ale, but can’t.

Luncheon was lembas bread and water in the saddle with only a short stop for necessities. I didn’t dismount; I wasn’t sure I could get back on Trellennan’s back if I climbed off, so stayed where I was. When Tauriel took Míriel to suckle her, I managed a quick piss off the back of my horse, which at any other time would have earned me a ribbing from my mates. But they knew why I hadn’t gotten down, so held silence. This close to our destination, there was nothing to do but keep on.

An hour or two before sundown, we finally passed the headwaters of the Little Lhûn. About five miles farther on, I urged Trellennan to the front of my mates, then slowed. When they followed suit, I pointed at the peak before us.

“Thorin’s Halls is just on the other side.”

Giriel rode up beside me. “Get down, then, so we can repack the baggage.”

I slid off, careful not to land on my left leg. It throbbed constantly now, and I felt hot. But I took the chance to piss like the rest of my mates without comment, and helped them pass the bags back and forth as we turned Trellennan into a packhorse, I hoped for the last time.

When it was time for me to climb into the middle of the baggage, I went to Tauriel and held out my mother’s rune stone.

“If she won’t budge when you give her this, then tell her the message that goes with it is, ‘ _leibz skarrenruf izril.’”_

Tauriel repeated my words as she pocketed the stone. “What does it mean?”

I mustered a smile. “I’ll tell you, but pretend you don’t know when you tell _Maamr_. It means ‘your blue jewel.’”

I told her the story behind that in a few words, which made her smile. “I will look puzzled when I tell her. It would not do for her to think an Elf knew such a tale.”

I grinned with more amusement than I’d felt in some days. I kissed her, and Míriel.

“See you soon, _amrâlimê_.”

“And you, _a’maelamin_.”

Rhiannel and Fallin boosted me up atop Trellennan. The rest of the bags came up, and the tent pad, my cloak, and my hood padded me in. When we started moving, I shut my eyes, braced my arms and right leg as best I could to take the strain off my left leg, and hoped for the best.

I can’t say I slept, but without anything to look at, I drifted along on my thoughts for a while. The Elves were making steady progress. I started alert when I realized that Trellennan was still and Drennal was whispering to me.

“We’re pulling out the bags at the back. There’s a necessary just to your left. When it’s empty, I’ll pull out the bag, you slide out, and hide in the necessary.”

I kicked aside the tent pad so I could squirm under it, balled up my cloak and hood, and waited. There! The bag was yanked out, so out I slithered. I ducked behind Drennal, hit the ground with a grunt, and hobbled to the necessary, smothering curses the whole way. I slammed the door shut – oh, Valar, this was one of those appalling public things that earned Dwarves an infamous reputation for utter filth. Even Orcs smelled better than this, and the level of crust bore no contemplation. Even if I’d had the worst urge to piss, I wouldn’t have managed it, for I would’ve contracted six diseases just from exposing myself to the very air. I wrapped my cloak around me and pulled on my hood with great pains not to touch anything, even with my clothing.

Three knocks, then another two, on the door told me the Elves were moving. I knew where I was, so I ducked out, pulled my hood down over my face, and slipped down the lane to the back of the inn we’d chosen. This was the risky part. Local Dwarves did not frequent this inn, for it was where trade delegations generally stayed when visiting Thorin’s Halls when conducting commerce. I looked like neither Dwarvish delegate nor local, and I certainly didn’t look like an Elf or a Man, so I had to keep out of sight long enough for my mates to get themselves settled. I hid in the necessary for a while, which was fortunately in better condition than the last one, then stuck my head out to see if anyone was looking out of a window yet.

No luck. I slunk out of the necessary and tried drifting down the path and back once or twice, keeping my face away from anyone I passed. Finally, finally, a window opened, and Rhiannel appeared. It was a second story window, but I slithered closer.

“Hssst!” I looked up at him, and when he spotted me, a thin rope came down. Of course. Elvish rope was very strong, but too thin to be able to climb easily. At least I had on gloves to save my hands as I hauled myself up. Rhiannel and Fallin caught my arms and heaved me over the sill and onto the floor in a heap, which didn’t do anything for my leg, but at this point it hardly mattered. I rolled over and found Giriel working on Tauriel’s hair. My wife was in clean clothes, and so were the Elf maid and Fallin.

“We’re going to try to see Dís now,” Tauriel said hastily. “Just in case she’s at the council hall late.”

“She is more than she’s not,” I agreed, easing to my feet.

“Drennal and Rhiannel will be downstairs watching from the common room. Giriel is coming with us and she’ll either find a place to watch outside the council hall or go in with us.”

“Where’s Míriel?”

“I’ve got her,” Drennal said softly from a chair by the fireplace as she patted the bairn’s back. “She’s been fed, so she’ll need a clean diaper soon.”

“I’ll do it,” I said, holding out my hands. “Thank you for this, _mellon nin_. Watch hard, and good luck. I want this over as much as you all do.”

Tauriel kissed me, my friends gave me hugs, and then they were off.

Míriel chirped at me inquiringly, then her face turned red. I shook my head. When I’d left the Blue Mountains with Uncle Thorin two years ago, I never thought my return would reduce me to hiding in shit houses and inns, or staying behind to change a bairn’s dirty diaper while my mates went off as Lord Elrond’s emissaries. Some parts of keeping a promise called for a right load of humility.

I looked at Míriel’s frowning face. “I suppose, Míriel, that we’d better clean both of us up in case your _Gabilmaamr_ comes to call.”

 

* * *

 

Fallin, Giriel, and I hastened through the streets to reach the council house that Kili had carefully marked on his map for us. I had his smooth rune stone in my pocket, and I tried to make my expression as smooth as the stone, as befitted Lord Elrond’s emissary from Imladris. Actually, it was Kili who was the emissary and neither I nor our four friends, but since we were all his co-conspirators in this venture, I supposed that made us co-emissaries, too.

There! The council hall was before us. It was an imposing hall, beautifully carved and worked in stone, with stone warrior statues to either side of the wide bronze doors. Runes above the doorway proclaimed something, but I couldn’t read them. I hoped they said something like the Elvish greeting of may a star shine upon the moment of our meeting, but given that this was a Dwarvish hall, I suspected not.

“Do you want me to stay with you, or shear off?” Giriel whispered, looking around. There wasn’t a good place for her to loiter, and given that folk already looked at us curiously, I shook my head.

“No, we’ll stay together. Ready?”

“At your back,” they both whispered.

We walked up to the door and went in.

The antechamber was dim, lit only with a pair of dim stone lamps. A desk off to the side was empty, but a short figure came forward from deeper in the building. This Dwarf wore a dark red robe richly sewn and decorated with intricate black and grey embroidery on the hems and sleeves. His beard was almost as intricate as what one of Kili’s companions had fashioned, with multiple plaits that twined like cables even down into his impressive beard.

“Elves? From Rivendell? My, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen Elves from Rivendell in this council chamber. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Elves from Rivendell in this council chamber. You’ve had a long trip of some weeks. What brings this visit?”

My friends and I gave our best bows. “You are right, Master Dwarf. We are from Imladris, or Rivendell as you call it. Lord Elrond, the master of that realm, has sent us here to offer his greetings to the Lady Dís of the Blue Mountains, who he understands is the counselor of your folk. He has matters he has asked us to pass on Lady Dís, and so we are here to request an audience with her.”

I couldn’t tell whether the Dwarf was amused, impressed, or something else. Perhaps he was merely surprised. Or suspicious. Kili had said that when Dwarves found themselves surprised, the most common reaction was suspicion. He stood looking at us for a moment, then shook his head.

“This is a notable event. I’ll have to ask, so if you’ll wait here...”

He turned around and disappeared the way he’d come. After his footsteps died away, we heard nothing. Giriel, Fallin, and I looked at each other, not sure what to do. Had we committed some horrible breach of Dwarvish protocol right from the start? I tried not to think about Kili and Míriel back in the inn, and our forces stretched so thin.

“Elves?” I heard a voice say sharply. It was a maid’s voice. I winced at the clear suspicion in it. Oh, Valar. Footsteps, sharp and quick, came towards us. A short, sturdy figure came towards us with determination in her step, and the Dwarf who’d met us trailed along behind.

“Elves. So they are,” the maid said consideringly, looking up at me with bright blue eyes. “Why are Elves standing in the council chamber of Thorin’s Halls?”

I took my time to answer as I returned Lady Dís’s consideration with my own. Kili had described his mother to me, but I would have recognized her without it, for she greatly resembled her older brother, Thorin. She had his blue eyes, and dark hair, though it was not as dark as Kili’s. Where Kili’s hair was wavy and soft, his mother’s was much coarser and curlier, and deeply marked at the temples with silver strands. Her beard thickly traced her jawline almost to her chin, and it had been braided into thin plaits and finished with tiny beads. The rest of her hair had been braided away from her face, and a large plait circled her head from ear to ear in a coronet. Many braids tumbled down her back in several patterns, and those that fell by her ears were richly strung with gems and worked metal beads. Her clothes were rich, as well, especially the fur-trimmed surcoat of dark blue suede that reminded me of the coat Thorin had worn in Mirkwood. Many rings dazzled on her hands, a finely worked seal of office hung around her neck, and a large ring of keys was hooked to her girdle.

Those piercing blue eyes took us in a sweep, considering and weighing. I bowed to her respectfully, but with full self-possession, as I would to King Thranduil. To either side of me, Giriel and Fallin made their bows as well.

“Elves are standing in your hall, Lady Dís, because the events at Erebor have moved Lord Elrond to seek you out and offer you his greetings and his council. Would you offer us a moment to speak of these to you?”

A shadow might have passed over Dís’s face, but she was courteous in her reply. “Aye, I’ll offer you more than a moment, given how far you’ve traveled. Kirlan, bring us some wine in the library, please.”

“I will,” the attendant replied, and got up to do so. Dís gestured for us to follow her, and she led us to a large room filled with shelves of books and papers. A big worktable filled the center of the room, and sturdy chairs surrounded it. We waited for her to choose her seat, then the three of us perched on the chairs as gracefully as we could. When she smiled, I could see a pale ghost of Kili’s smile in the expression. The attendant brought the wine and cups, and poured a measure out for all of us. When he seated himself behind Dís, she took up her cup.

“I give thee greetings,” she held up her cup, and nodded slightly. “I am Dís, Counsel of the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains.”

We took up our cups. “I am Tauriel, emissary of Lord Elrond Half-Elven of Imladris, known to you as Rivendell. My comrades are Giriel and Fallin, also of Imladris. We greet you, Lady Dís, and thank you for receiving us.”

We drank, and sat for a moment taking each other’s measure. This was a maid long used to governance, to making weighty decisions that was law for all her folk. This was also a maid who was a loving mother, who thought both of her sons were dead. I seemed to see a withdrawing in her eyes, as if the string of losses had finally gotten long enough that she wanted to turn away from the world, but stayed because of her obligations.

She arched her eyebrow, perhaps surprised. “You’re well spoken, I’ll give you that. So tell me what your Lord Elrond has to say to me.”

“He has heard that Erebor has been reclaimed from the dragon at great cost. He offers his condolences to you and your folk. He has also heard that many of your folk seek to make the long trip from your homes here in the Blue Mountains to seek new homes in Erebor and Dale. Lord Elrond offers Rivendell as a stopping point to you, so that you can rest and restock before crossing the Misty Mountains and continuing on to Erebor.”

“A generous offer,” Dís allowed. She sat back in her chair and folded her hands across her broad chest. “Why would Lord Elrond send you all this way to tell me this when a nicely worded letter would do?”

“Millennia ago, Lord Elrond was an exile himself. He led his people away from their home and settled anew in Rivendell to build a new life. He understands very well what it means to lose a home, to make a new one, and no matter how warm a new home is, there is always a longing for the memory of the old one. Because he understands these things, he offers his courtesy to a fellow ruler, and also his support. It is a benefit to all free folk to strengthen the ties between us.”

She nodded blandly. “And what does Lord Elrond want for the support he offers us?”

I decided that the time for me to act like a prim emissary was over, and it was time to act like the warrior I was. “I assume you’ll have to pay the innkeepers a fair price for lodging and suppers, as does everyone. If you like, I can ask Lord Elrond upon my return to send you the master of the innkeepers’ guild to negotiate prices for such things.” Dís snorted, but with laughter rather than insult. “I am one of Lord Elrond’s guardsmen, as are my comrades, and we are better suited to talk about the advantage of allies to provide mutual support against invasions and incursions. The passing of intelligence is also useful to keep allies safe against our mutual enemies. The stronger the alliance between our folk, the better we both shall be.”

I got a bit of smile out of Dís. “So an Elf offers a pact to a Dwarf. Previous conversations between our folk have been fraught with conflict.”

“So they have.”

Now Dís openly smiled, because I had not risen to her words, but was content to let her make whatever point she had to make.

“I like an Elf with restraint.”

“I admire a Dwarf with similar qualities.”

Dís chuckled. “So your lord has sent you to take your measure of me, is that it?”

“As much as for you to take your measure of his emissary, and by extension, the lord himself.”

“And what will you tell your lord?”

I grinned. “That a game of chess between the two of you would be very interesting to watch, and beneficial to you both.”

She laughed openly. “Aye, it would, Maid Tauriel. I think a match with at least one of his guardsmen might be just as interesting.”

I bowed, acknowledging the compliment. “He is a much better player than I, Lady.”

She rose, signaling the end of the interview. “Perhaps one day we will have the privilege to share a game, your lord and I. I would enjoy it.”

“I’ll pass your wish on to Lord Elrond.”

“I thank you.”

“I have one more message to pass to you, Lady Dís.”

She paused. “Yes?”

I glanced at Giriel and Fallin, and handed them my knives. They took the weapons with a bow, then bowed to Dís, and retreated to stand in the antechamber, their backs to us.

“It is a private message, Lady.”

Dís’s expression turned wary. “Is this from your lord as well?”

I shook my head. “No, Lady. But it is very important.”

Almost I thought she would refuse me, and I swallowed, wondering what to say to sway her. But finally she turned to Kirlan, and gestured to him. He bowed, and disappeared into a side chamber.

“Tell me this message.”

I reached into my pocket, took Kili’s rune stone in my hand, put it on the table, and slid it with a single finger towards Dís.

Considering the stone was the last thing Dís expected to see, she controlled herself admirably well, but her gasp was audible. She took up the stone and rubbed her fingers across the runes, then her fierce gaze skewered me.

“Where did you get this?” she asked harshly.

Oh, Valar, please let me find the right words! “It is a long tale, and a private one, Lady. My comrades and I are staying at The Ram’s Beard Inn. I ask you to come there to hear the tale. We would be honored to escort you, but I understand if you prefer to arrive in your own time, with your own escort.”

“I will hear what you have to say here, or not at all.”

I bowed. “That is your choice. I was bid to say these words to you if you made that choice.”

“What words?”

“ _Leibz skarrenruf izril.”_

She gasped again, and grabbed my arm. “You will tell me who has sent this message!”

I took her hand in both of mine, as gently as she let me. “Yes, I will. I am bound to do so, under the circumstances I was given. Please, Lady. Come to the inn, either with us or not. Outside of the inn, I am bound to say nothing.”

She looked down at my hands, and pulled away from me. Oh, Valar, to come so close...

“Please, Lady Dís. Tell your aide where you are going if that will ease your mind, that someone will know. The Inn often hosts trade delegations and is safe.”

“I know all too much about trade delegations at the Ram’s Beard,” Dís growled. “All right, Lady Elf. I will go with you.”

I breathed a sigh of relief that I hoped wasn’t as audible to Kili’s mother as it was to me. I bowed deeply, my hand over my heart. “I thank you. You honor me.”

She sniffed, but took up Kili’s rune stone and marched out of the library.

“Kirlan!” she shouted. “I’m off to the Ram’s Beard!”

A chuckle followed her out. “Again? Elves don’t like ale, you know, even if you do!”

“Hush, old man,” she said, and sailed through the antechamber and out of the council hall. I followed quickly, waving Giriel and Fallin after me.

“Is she going?” Giriel hissed, running to catch up.

“She is. Keep up!” I replied, and sped after the intent Dwarf maid until I was beside her. As fast as she walked, we reached the inn in mere heartbeats. We went inside, and the innkeeper nodded to Dís familiarly, as if she were a common visitor. That, I hoped, reassured Dís that she was in no danger from us. Rhiannel and Drennal saw us, but I signaled them to stay where they were. Fallin and Giriel went to join them, and I turned to Dís.

“We can talk upstairs.”

When I led the way, Dís followed me without hesitation. I knocked on our door three times, then twice more, opened the door, and led the Dwarf maid in.

Kili sat before the fire, in profile to the door, his left leg propped up on a stool. He’d combed and braided his hair carefully, and his clothes were the best he’d brought with him. A knife was in his right hand, and Míriel was cuddled in the crook of his left arm. She sat up alertly, and chirped inquiringly at me.

When Kili put his knife down on the table by the chair and met his mother’s eyes, he looked very young and vulnerable. Then he smiled, and the bright light in his eyes, the light that had stolen my heart two years ago, lit up the whole room.

If Lady Dís didn’t melt, I was going to strangle her.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone. Whew! This was a tough chapter to write, but it's finally done. Thank you all for being so patient while I tried to make sense of all the angst. So here, at long last, is the conversation between Kili and Dis.
> 
> Tauriel gets to have a word or two, too. She's such a delight! And Miriel will burble a thought or two, as well.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it, and leave me a note to tell me what you think. Thanks!

_“Why aren’t we running the vermin down?” Berqk asked softly as he and Krugnash watched the Elves pile baggage around the Dwarf, then set off for the Dwarvish settlement._

_“Because there are six of them with bows, and two of us with one,” Krugnash rebuked. “Or did you like the head ornament they gave Grugkal so much that you want one? Or maybe you want me to slit your throat as I did for Hrashk.”_

_Berqk’s growl was considering, then he nodded. “Understood. So what do we do now?”_

_“Follow them. Sooner or later, they will divide their forces, and we will take the Dwarf.”_

_The Elves were out of sight, so Krugnash and Berqk eased their Wargs after them._

_* * *_

 

 _Maamr_ looked exactly as I remembered her, all commanding presence and elegant robes, though her hair braiding and jewelry was more intricate than her usual. She must have been sitting court earlier in the day. Her expression was familiar, too, painfully so – how many thousands of times had Fili and I endured that glare because we’d gotten into mischief? Not just ordinary mischief, either – this was the outrageous, appalling mischief glare. Despite myself, it made me smile, even when she took a rare, impulsive step towards me with her hand half raised –

“You can’t beat me until you’ve heard the whole story,” I said.

“Who’s going to stop me?” she snarled.

Míriel chirped inquiringly, as if I’d asked her to. My smile grew wider, and behind my mother, Tauriel’s lips trembled. I put Míriel on my knee and bounced her gently.

“This is your granddaughter, _Maamr_. Her name is Míriel. Please don’t beat me in front of her.”

I’d never seen _Maamr_ at a loss before. She stood stock still, her eyes flitting between me and Míriel, and she forgot to breathe. Tauriel couldn’t see her face, so couldn’t know if she were about to spit, curse, faint, or any of a hundred other displays – not that I knew, either. But Tauriel had spent centuries enduring the whims of an arrogant Elvish king, and was content to stay at the door as long as _Maamr_ didn’t hurl herself at me.

“Would you like to hold her?” I invited, nodding at the other comfortable chair by the fire. “She’s a very happy bairn, and –”

“Who’s the mother?” she cut me off.

Tauriel rolled her eyes behind my mother, turning my grin wry. “She is,” I nodded at Tauriel.

“You fathered a child with an _Elf_?” she spat, whirling to face Tauriel, who met her gaze calmly. After putting up with four hundred years of Thranduil’s nonsense, maybe facing my mother wasn’t so hard.

“It’s worse than that,” Tauriel said evenly, her hands on her hips. “He married an Elf, too.”

Was it hysteria or recklessness that made me chuckle? Whichever it was, I smothered the sound when _Maamr_ whirled back to face me, but I couldn’t completely suppress the grin.

"If you haven’t already met, Lady Dís, may I present Tauriel of Imladris, my _amrâlimê_ and wife, and Míriel’s mother. Tauriel, this is my mother, Lady Dís of the Blue Mountains.”

Tauriel gave _Maamr_ the bow her station deserved. “We have met, but it is still my honor.”

“You’ve got a nerve, marching bold as can be into my council house under false pretenses –”

“They weren’t false pretenses, _Maamr_ ,” I cut her off, something I’d never done before. “We _are_ emissaries of Lord Elrond of Rivendell, and he _does_ extend his hand to you. Please, would you sit down and let me tell you everything? And don’t you want to hold your granddaughter? She’s the best bairn any _Gabilmaamr_ could have.”

When _Maamr_ looked over her shoulder at me, her glare hadn’t dimmed in the least. “I suppose you think that sitting down with a bairn on your lap is going to keep me from beating you halfway to the nether regions, do you?”

“Sitting down with a babe on his lap is going to keep him from putting too much strain on an already overstrained injury,” Tauriel said crisply. “An Orc shot Kili in the thigh three days ago. In addition, we’ve spent six weeks almost constantly on horseback to travel the seven hundred miles to get here so Kili can repay his promise to you. If you won’t look kindly at your granddaughter or me, at least look kindly on him for the effort he’s made to come to you despite more adversity than you know.”

My _amrâlimê’s_ eyes were dangerously green, and her voice, while composed, was the same one that had faced down a king and quelled an irrepressible Dwarf.

“It’s all right, Tauriel,” I said in placation. I shrugged at my mother. “She worries. I’ve given her a lot of trouble in the past few days.”

“That hasn’t changed,” _Maamr_ snorted, but the light in her eyes cooled a hair. She abruptly plunked herself down in the armchair opposite me. “All right, tell your tale. I’ll hold my hand until then.”

I winked at Tauriel, who gave me a crooked smile. She opened the door. “I’ll be outside, _a’maelamin_.”

“ _Amrâlimê_ ,” I thanked her. She let herself out in silence.

For a long moment, _Maamr_ sat looking at me, a bemused expression on her face. I reached for the wine decanter on the table next to my knife, poured a glass full, and held it out to her.

“I’m sorry it’s not ale, but it’s good.”

She waved a hand, unconcerned about the lack of ale, and took the glass to sip. She looked at the glass consideringly, then me, then Míriel who regarded her grandmother with interest. The bairn waved her hands, then kicked, drawing my smile.

“You can’t say Míriel’s not the most adorable bairn you’ve ever seen.”

“Aye, she’s cute enough,” _Maamr_ allowed. Now that we were alone, she sighed like my mother and not the Counselor of the Blue Mountain Dwarves. She looked tired, a feeling I well understood – that heaviness that descends when life seems empty and barren. “Tell me everything.”

I started at the beginning, when I’d left home with Fili and Uncle Thorin. I told her about our trip to the Shire where we met Bilbo, and how we’d come to Imladris, met the skin changer Beorn, and fallen astray in Mirkwood, all the while hounded by Orcs and goblins and Wargs. I told her how I’d met Tauriel, then fallen behind a waterfall while freeing our kinsmen from King Thranduil’s realm. I told her how Tauriel had saved my life uncounted times, because when I’d fallen in love with her, so she had fallen in love with me. I told her how we came upon Bolg’s army of Gundebad Orcs, and had raced to Erebor to warn our folk.

When I told her about careening up to Ravenhill, though, my voice failed.

 _Maamr_ didn’t press me for a long while, but I couldn’t find my voice. After so long, I still found it impossible to speak of losing my brother and uncle.

“They told me Fili and Thorin died at Ravenhill,” _Maamr_ said softly. All I could do was nod. “Did you see it?”

I shook my head. “No one saw Uncle Thorin fight Azog, except Bilbo. He took a mortal blow to deal the same to the Orc, Bilbo said. Tauriel, Bilbo, and Uncle Thorin saw what happened to Fili. I’ve never asked her. Azog did it, and then he... he... he dropped Fili’s body over the tower. He landed right at my feet, not a foot away, and...”

I closed my eyes. They were wet as I kissed the top of Míriel’s head, and I wasn’t ashamed of it. I took a deep breath. I couldn’t say this for myself, but somehow I’d find a way to say it for my mother.

“I went after Azog, for Fili. I can’t tell you how many Orcs I killed, even the big Gundebad Orcs. But Azog had gone after Uncle Thorin, and he sent his son, Bolg, after me, because they wanted to end the line of Durin. Bolg was even bigger than the other Gundebad Orcs, and he would have killed me if Tauriel hadn’t been there to fight with me. Even so, he nearly killed us both. I’m still not sure how he didn’t. He came so close, over and over again. We wounded him badly enough that Prince Legolas, King Thranduil’s son, finally finished him. The battle was all but over by then, so Tauriel and I helped each other limp away. That’s when we found Uncle Thorin and Bilbo. I had time to say goodbye, just seconds, really. After that...”

I shut my eyes again. With a rustle of cloth, _Maamr_ knelt by my chair to put her arms around me. I put my head on her shoulder, my arm around her.

“I couldn’t save Fili, _Maamr_. I’d just gotten him back, not five moments before he died. Not even five moments. I’d just gotten him back.”

“Kili,” _Maamr_ whispered. “My Kili.”

Míriel burbled plaintively, her hand patting my cheek gently. I wiped my eyes and kissed her head, and when _Maamr’s_ eyes met mine, hers were gentler, mourning for me as well as herself. Míriel reached for the beads that dangled tantalizingly from _Maamr’s_ clan braids, liking the bright sparkle of color and faint tinkling sound. She managed to snag one and, as bairns do, pulled it into her mouth. I untangled it from her fingers gently.

“Not _Gabilmaamr’s_ clan beads, Miri,” I said softly, and held up my finger for her. “Here, gnaw on your _Taad_.”

“Why didn’t you stay in Erebor, Kili?” _Maamr_ asked softly, as Míriel grabbed my finger with enthusiasm.

I sighed. “Everyone thought I’d drowned when we’d fled King Thranduil’s realm. After Ravenhill, after losing Fili and Uncle Thorin... I’m not a king, _Maamr_. I’ve never wanted to be one, anyway. Dain is a good ruler, far better than I will ever be. It’s far better for our folk to have a good ruler than me.”

“Kili, it’s your birthright –”

“I am not a king, _Maamr_ ,” I repeated, emphasizing each word. “You know that. You’ve always known that. You know our folk would never accept me despite whatever birthright anyone claims. Fili was the kingly one, and I was the not-quite Dwarvish one. I’m still the not-quite-Dwarvish one. In fact, now I’m the not-quite-Dwarvish one with a definitely-not-Dwarvish wife and child. So, please, don’t let’s debate my lack of kingly merit. We’ve never resolved it before, and we won’t now. Besides, my tale’s not done yet. I’ve still some things to tell.”

I scooped up Míriel and plunked her on _Maamr’s_ lap without asking her permission, because my leg ached and I had to shift it. I shifted into a more comfortable position and regarded the pair of them, my regal mother, and my bairn delighted to have so many shiny, tinkly things to play with. She cooed and reached for _Maamr’s_ seal of office; when _Maamr_ automatically tried to ease it away, one of the bright finger rings caught Míriel’s eye, and she reached for that.

“She loves jewelry,” I tried to smile.

“Aye, she does, like any maid,” _Maamr_ replied. She moved aside the collar of her dress, snared the chain that hung around her neck, and pulled it over the cloth. “ _‘Leibz skarrenruf izril.’_ Your blue jewel, indeed.”

 _Maamr’s_ necklace was one of the first pieces of fine jewelry I’d made as a lad. It wasn’t Dwarvish in style, just a simple disk of _Maamr’s_ favorite blue feldspar, smoothed, polished, and encircled in plain silver, with a silver spiral inlaid in the stone, then suspended on a linked silver chain. I’d made it for my birthing day when I’d turned twenty. I’d been shy about giving it to her amid the big feast, because I hadn’t wanted the other guests to laugh at such an unDwarvish thing. So I’d asked to see her in private before the feast, which she’d allowed, and I’d given it to her then. She’d worn it since. I knew she’d remember my request for privacy when Tauriel relayed my message, and if anything would persuade her to come to me, that would.

I smiled to see the piece I’d made so long ago, and reached out to run my finger across its face. She caught my hand, looking at my marriage ring. “Did you make that?”

“I did. I made a silver casket for Tauriel’s marriage gift, and the jewelry for our ceremony. The finger rings, of course, and then rings for our ears. Tauriel is a warrior, and I wanted to give her something that wouldn’t hinder her when she fights. Or hinder me, either, for that matter, so we wouldn’t have to take them off. One ear ring has the _amrâlimê_ pattern, and the other has the Elvish _a’maelamin_ pattern, which is the equivalent of our _amrâlimê_. Lord Elrond and Gandalf the Grey blessed us in the ceremony, _Maamr_ – it was quite an honor. Then Tauriel did her best to incite a lot of sedate Elves into the most raucous marriage feast Rivendell’s seen in a millennia. There was a lot of dancing, and drinking, and eating. And Gandalf’s fireworks. Then they threw me into a sacred fountain and sang the filthiest songs they knew. I was touched.”

“Your story is missing a chapter,” she said, her mouth perhaps showing the tiniest bit of a very reluctant smile. “How did you end up in Rivendell? Was it Tauriel’s idea?”

“It was mine. We wanted a place that would accept both of us, and both of us bonded, and our children. I wouldn’t be king, so that cut out Erebor. Tauriel was captain of King Thranduil’s guard, but she defied the king to save my life a time or two, and when he would have abandoned our folk on the battlefield, she kept him there, which won the day. He banished her for both. So we couldn’t stay there, as if either of us wanted to. So I thought about Imladris – Rivendell, I mean – because Lord Elrond had extended Uncle Thorin courtesy when Gandalf had led us there, and I thought they might look kindly on a couple of warriors willing to serve the city. I’m a smith there, and both Tauriel and I are in the guard, and we teach for the guard, too. We have a house, and friends, and we’re very happy.”

“Then why did you come so far, to here?” _Maamr_ asked.

I looked at her in surprise. “I promised to return to you, _Maamr_. I promised. I couldn’t save Fili, or Uncle Thorin, and I knew you’d think I was dead, too, and that you were alone. I didn’t want you to suffer that. I wanted you to know that someone was still with you, even if I didn’t live here. That’s all.”

“By birth, Kili, you’re the Heir of Erebor. Coming back here, you’ve put me in the position of knowing who the rightful king of our folk is, and that rightful king is not who sits on the throne under the mountain.”

“You’ve always told me that it was my duty to think of our folk. So you have to do the same. Think about our folk. Do you want a scattered people to have an experienced king who can guide them as they return to Erebor, who can properly negotiate between all the arguing clans who think it’s all in a week’s fun to split each others’ heads open over a dog race? That takes a bastard and a half like Dain Ironfoot, who can go toe to toe with any of them. That is not me. I have a different role to play.”

“And just what role is that?” my mother asked with skepticism dripping from every word.

I grinned. I was beginning to get the hang of arguing with _Maamr_ like an adult, and not the scamp I’d been so often. “I’m not just Lord Elrond’s emissary to you, _Maamr_. I’m Gandalf the Grey’s secret asset in Imladris, and so is Tauriel, and especially so is Míriel. We’re in Rivendell to keep the Elves in Middle Earth a bit longer, to keep them interested in what goes on so they don’t Sail into the West.”

“And why are the interests of Elves of any interest to us?”

“Because Dwarves can’t stand alone, that’s why. Whether you like it or not, Elves helped regain Erebor. So did the Men of Laketown. We’d have lost Erebor without both of them. Elves will continue to sit to the south and west of Erebor. Elves sit south of the Blue Mountains, too, though you’d never know it to hear our folk talk. Elves and Dwarves and Men have to stand together to keep the Orcs and Goblins and the Valar know what else from overrunning Middle Earth. Believe me, you don’t want any more Gundebad Orcs loose in the world to prey on our folk when they travel west.”

 _Maamr_ looked at me with a quelling expression that Tauriel sometimes turned on me. That familiarity made it easier for me to meet her eyes without blinking. In fact, it was my mother who shook her head.

“You sound like a Dwarf with the diplomatic skill to be a king to me.”

“Only because you’re my mother. You don’t care that I look like half an Elf. You think I can do anything.”

“ _I_ can’t just do anything, Kili. You’re the Heir –”

“Is there an abdication ceremony, _Maamr_? If there is, I want it. You aren’t putting me on a throne.”

“There’s never been such a ceremony.”

“Then either make one up, or keep silent about me. I’m not here to be king. I’m here to keep my promise to you, because I didn’t want you to mourn me. We’ve both got enough to mourn without that.”

“But Kili, Elves? You’d throw your lot with the fickle people who betrayed us when Smaug came?”

I was beginning to lose my temper about the stubbornness of Dwarves, so I took a deep breath to calm it. “There’s fault on both sides, isn’t there? If we hadn’t stolen certain jewels from the Elves who’d come to us for legitimate business, they might have turned a kinder eye on us when Smaug came. That was a long time ago. Erebor is ours again, and King Thranduil has his jewels, so let’s get on to more important things.

“If you don’t know, Lord Elrond and his folk had nothing to do with that old feud – they’re a completely different line than the Sindar Elves of the Woodland Realm. They have been the soul of courtesy to Tauriel and me. There has never been anything but good relations between Imladris and the Iron Mountains, too; did you know that? And if you want an example of fickle Elvish regard, you and I both owe a huge debt of gratitude to the Elves who thought enough of me to travel all this way to help me keep my promise, especially my wife, who took the guilty worry of a Dwarf for his mother and made a workable plan to get us here, complete with bairn!”

“This love you think you feel for an Elf, Kili... it cannot last. Consider your people, your legacy. Renounce this infatuation so you can take your proper place.”

That tore it. I leaned forward, making no secret of my fury. “I will not renounce her! Do not ever ask me again!”

Tauriel stuck her head in the door, looking concerned. “Kili?”

I leaned back and held up a placating hand. “It’s fine, Tauriel. I was... making a point.”

Her face was as impassive as a diplomat’s. I beckoned to her. As she came in, I heaved myself up out of the chair.

“I need some air. _Maamr_ asked about Fili. I told her what I could. If you can, would you please tell her the rest?”

She nodded. When I hobbled past her, she touched my arm in support, and let me go. I shut the door on them, exhaling.

That had been bloody stupid, but me no more than my mother.

 

* * *

 

I sat in Kili’s chair carefully, watching Dís closely to gauge her mood. She looked at Míriel for a long moment, happily burbling and patting the beads in her grandmother’s beard. She held Míriel as easily as anyone who’d cared for children, but it was unconscious, with competency rather than affection. Oh, how could anyone’s heart remain hard in the face of such a child? And if Míriel couldn’t beguile her grandmother, and Kili couldn’t, how could I? I sat quietly, trying to think of something neutral to say that didn’t sound either provocative or placating.

Dís’s sharp gaze skewered me. “Kili said you saw his brother die.”

I nodded. “It was very fast. He did not suffer. It was Kili who suffered, and Thorin, as Azog intended.”

Dís hummed. “Tell me.”

I thought about how Fili had died, and stilled until I could put the image aside. “I would not choose to inflict that on you.”

“Tell me.”

“Azog held Fili by his neck over the edge of a tower. Thorin, Bilbo, and I were below. Azog thrust his scimitar through Fili’s back and out his chest. Your son was dead before the blade was pulled free, and did not feel being dropped from the tower to land at Kili’s feet.”

I had spoken evenly, almost brutally, until the last word. The slightest hesitation had crept into my voice, as I had thought about the smiling blond Dwarf who had teased his brother with all affection, who had loved every one of his eighteen knives and swords and blades as children, and who had had the perfect mustache braids for Míriel to pull.

“You knew him?”

I nodded. “Not as well as I would have liked, but enough to know he had a true heart, and was well worth knowing.”

“And you think you love my son?”

I cocked my head at Dís. “Folk often try to pick fights when they have heard something they do not like, or because they are angry and want to vent. In the first case, it rarely changes anyone’s minds. In the second, it only annoys the one being vented upon. I am sure that the Counselor of the Blue Mountain Dwarves, who is so well known for her fair governance, would not stoop to such tactics.”

Dís suddenly laughed. “You’re a better chess player than you think you are, Tauriel.”

“I am glad you think so.”

“So what shall we talk about?”

“The joy of knowing that one who was thought dead is alive, is happy, and has a delightful daughter. Children are precious to all of us.”

Dís nodded. “Aye, they are. Yet... Tauriel, I have never heard of love between a Dwarf and an Elf. What you think of as love outside your kind cannot last. You must renounce this blindness, and release Kili to his true place. By law, Kili is the Heir to his folk.”

I took Míriel back in my arms when she reached for me. I had no intention of trying to dissuade anyone from dismissing the bond Kili and I shared because of what they had or had not experienced, so I chose to speak only of Kili’s supposed legacy. “Laws must work to a folk’s benefit, Lady. When a law forces someone to rule when they are not suited for it and do not desire it, then that law hurts all folk for years to come, perhaps even to destruction. Is following such a law to ruination the greater good?”

“You cannot say that ruination will come when Kili is king,” Dís countered.

“No more than you can say it will be averted. As a mother, consider the misery you will foist on Kili if you force him into a role that he is not fit for and does not want. Think of the advocate you will lose without Kili in Rivendell, where he is respected, and represents your folk well, and can ease your folk’s emigration to Erebor. Think of your grandchildren suffering the same bullies who thought Kili was not a proper Dwarf, rather than thriving in a city that loves them regardless of the race of their parents. Do those things help the greater good? Are they the right way to reward Kili's efforts to honor the promise he kept to you?”

Dís looked at me fiercely. Thranduil had glared at me just as angrily, and unlike the king, Kili’s mother couldn’t have me executed with impunity, so I was not concerned with a glare. I suspected that deep inside, buried underneath the years of counseling, was still the mother who loved her youngest son, and who knew his heart. Perhaps I could appeal to that.

“Consider the bitterness that both of you would live with if you are at odds when we return to Rivendell. You may not approve of his path. But children grow up, and they do not always play the roles their parents expect. Your acceptance would acknowledge him as the Dwarf he is, your son as he is, and avoid the bitterness of believing in a Dwarf that he is not.”

Dís sat up in her chair and turned towards the door. “Kili?”

The door opened, and Kili stuck his head in. “Yes, _Maamr_?”

“Your wife is an excellent debater.”

Kili limped in, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. I didn’t smile, but gave him half a wink. “She is. And what have you debated?”

His mother smiled reluctantly. “I’m not convinced of this bond you both claim, but you’ve both made some excellent points of governance. I’ll look into the pertinent laws to see what can be done legally, though I make no promise of acting on what I find. Until then, I’ll hold my silence about your survival. I’ll return tomorrow evening to tell you what I’ve learned.”

Dís got up to leave, and I rose with her to stand beside Kili as he kissed her goodbye. It was telling that she didn’t look at Míriel, and gave me only a nod, before she left.

Kili exhaled gustily. “That was a right mess.”

I put Míriel down on the bed and got out her finger puppets to play with her. She was still much too alert to consider reflection. “Did you tell her everything?”

He sat on the other side of Míriel and took up one of the puppets. “I told her everything about getting to Erebor and then to Imladris.”

I looked up at him. “Did you tell her about the Orcs following us?”

He winced. “I didn’t. I got wound up about Fili and Uncle Thorin, and then she wanted to debate about laws and infatuations and legacies, and there was never a moment to say anything about this Krugnash bastard.”

I got up, giving Kili the finger puppet. “I’m going to tell her, and ask her to tell the town guard to keep an eye out for them.”

I hurried down to the common room, but Lady Dís had already left. I found her alone, walking back to her council house, and told her briefly of the Gundebad Orc who pursued Kili. She had the grace to hear me out, and maybe she blanched when she heard why the Orc wanted Kili. She agreed to alert the town guard, then took her leave.

There was something in her face that gave me pause. Without doubt, it was love for her son, but that didn’t mean I trusted it. King Thranduil loved his son, too.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Life for our intrepid band is about to take a walk on the dark side, as the Orcs will finally emerge from the italics and go mainstream :-).
> 
> Take a deep breath, and hold on!

 

_Krugnash slithered back to where Berqk waited with the Wargs. “The Elves went into the Inn? Where is the Dwarf?”_

_“I didn’t see him, only three of the Elves who came down the path with another Dwarf. Some sort of lord, I think, given the fancy robes. I couldn’t see the front door directly, but I didn’t see them on the path further on, so they must have gone inside.”_

_“Their horses are in the stable beside the inn.”_

_“I wonder if they’ve hidden the Dwarf somewhere while they try to ransom him to the Dwarf lord?”_

_That nettled Krugnash, because he’d wondered the same thing. Berqk was smarter than he liked, but so far he’d been a good follower._

_“That would explain why he fled Erebor, but not why he fought with the Elves to kill Grugkal and Hrashk.”_

_“They could have told him to fight or they’d kill him,” Berqk mused._

_“True. We’ve done that more than a few times with the Mirkwood maggots. And Dwarves have no love of our kind, in any case.” Krugnash looked back at the inn. “We’ll see if they settle for the night.”_

_Berqk nudged Krugnash. “There’s the Dwarf lord. Down the path.”_

_“There’s one of the Elves right behind. They’re having a talk. It’s the red-haired she-Elf. Now she’s going back to the inn.”_

_“Making a deal with the Dwarf Lord, maybe?” Berqk speculated._

_“Maybe. I’m going to prowl; see if I can find where they’ve cached the Dwarf. You do the same. The Wargs are well hidden here. As long as they stay quiet, we won’t be noticed.”_

_Berqk’s chuckle was silent. “Maybe the bitch will finally whelp.”_

_“If we didn’t need her to carry the Dwarf, I’d slit her throat the way I did Hrashk’s.”_

_“And good riddance,” Berqk replied._

_* * *_

“You think _Maamr_ would do something underhanded, like have the town guards take me in hand?” I looked askance at Tauriel as we ate supper after my mother left. She and our friends were hunkered down in my room, talking about what to do next. I passed Giriel the basket of rolls, took a bite of my mutton stew, and looked back at Tauriel.

“She won’t think it’s underhanded,” Tauriel replied, distracting Míriel from the cakes with a finger puppet. “Kili, the last time your mother saw you, you were setting out for Erebor with Thorin’s company. Next to Ori, you were the youngest, little older than a child in her eyes. Since then, you’ve been to war, emigrated, married, made a home, had a child, and become a smith and guardsman in Imladris. You’ve grown up. She didn’t see any of it, so of course she thinks our bond is just infatuation, and your choices are a child’s moon dreams. Given her concern about your birthright, I’d find it strange if she didn’t try to force you back to the path she expects.”

“You spent too long watching how King Thranduil did things,” I tried to joke, but Tauriel didn’t laugh.

“You know better than I how your mother would choose to act.”

Fallin swallowed his bite of salad. “I agree with Tauriel, Kili. I told you my kin were all musicians, but I didn’t get the gift. There was no question of a royal succession in my case, and my family still went through all manner of manipulation to try to keep me true to the family legacy, when where I belonged was in the guard. Even after I moved out, joined the guard, and did well in it, they argued about it for at least two hundred years before they finally gave up. Seven hundred years later, my father still thinks I did it only to embarrass him.”

I sighed. “You’re right, both of you. So what should we do? I’m inclined to wait to see what she has to say tomorrow, but no longer. But if you think we should pack up quietly and ride out first thing tomorrow and head home, I’m with you. The Valar know you’ve been patient with me the whole way out here.”

I looked at the faces of my friends as we sat on the floor around our shared heap of dishes. It struck me that despite being indoors, we’d still arranged ourselves as if we were in our tent, still our family of nomads. It was another sign of how close we’d become. Giriel and Fallin were nodding, clearly in favor of riding out as soon as possible. Drennal and Rhiannel were more circumspect, but only because they wanted me to choose what I wanted to do. Tauriel’s face was inscrutable.

“I, too, am willing to wait until tomorrow night,” Tauriel said slowly. I’d learned that her expression seemed remote when she was assessing tactics, both ours as well as those around us, and so she looked now. “But I would advise that we do not all stay so closely together, in case Lady Dís does decide to call out the guard. Two in the common room, two outside, Kili and Míriel here because it’s the most protected room and overlooks the back of the inn, and one in Drennal and Fallin’s room, because it has a view of the street in both directions.”

“We ought to leave everything but a few personal things packed, so that we can leave quickly if need be,” Giriel suggested. “Rhiannel and I will check the horses and make sure they are sound and the tack is clean. Leave the heavy baggage, such as the tent and food, unpacked.”

“I think someone ought to visit the closest guard post in the morn, just to know where it is,” was Drennal’s surprising comment. She was usually too shy of her abilities to suggest tactics. “If it’s close enough, we can watch it to know if a group comes this way.”

“That is a good idea,” Fallin said proudly, drawing her smile. “Once Giriel and Rhiannel finish with the horses, you and I will do that.”

“I want to help,” I said, “but I know I have to stay out of sight. So I’ll mind Míriel and watch the back of the inn.”

“And rest your leg,” Tauriel added. “If we have to leave quickly, you’ll need all the strength you can muster.”

We finished supper, cleaned up the dishes, and our friends went back to their rooms to watch the road, leaving Tauriel and Míriel with me.

“I am sorry, Kili,” Tauriel murmured, her hand on my knee. “You are right that I am too suspicious, too quick to imagine that everyone reacts as King Thranduil does. I should not cast your mother in that light. I am sure that she loves you very much.”

I sighed. “I don’t think _Maamr_ is as consciously manipulative as the king is. But she’s lost so much – her home when Smaug came, then our kin to the firedrake and the Orcs. I’m all that’s left. Maybe all of that makes her try to hold on to me.”

“Or perhaps she is tired of ruling alone. My impression is that Thorin was often gone, leaving the day-to-day work to your mother.”

“He was. He was restless; _Maamr_ was the steady one.” I grimaced. “Maybe she feels that I’m abandoning her, leaving her to govern the Blue Mountains alone during the emigration while I flit off to wherever. Or that I’m betraying her because I married an Elf. Or maybe she feels there is no place for her on Dain’s council, and there would be on mine.”

“All possible,” Tauriel conceded. She gathered Míriel into her arms to hug her.

“It’s not any of those things,” I said, more to the spirit of my mother than to Tauriel. “I... I’m just not a fit ruler, Tauriel. I’m the not-quite-Dwarvish one – oh, Valar, you’ve heard the litany too many times already. I won’t make you listen to it again.”

Unaccountably, my wife smiled and leaned forward to kiss my cheek. “I don’t think of you as not-quite-Dwarvish, _a’maelamin_ , but rather as Dwarvish-with-embellishment.”

I snickered. “You make me sound like a festival gift.”

She traced her fingers down the front of my blue velvet tunic. “I do enjoy unwrapping you, especially when you’re dressed in your finest.”

“Oh and oh, you’d better do it quickly, before someone comes in on us,” I invited, reaching for her, “or Miri wants to eat, or _Maamr_ thinks of something else to say, or...”

“Shh,” Tauriel urged, as she popped Míriel in her bag of gowns. We hastened through each other’s fastenings and layers of clothes, drew each other to bed, and my injured leg proved no hindrance to sating an eager Elf warrior maid, or to her sating me. It was a grace to savor each other after going so many days without.

Mere infatuation, _Maamr_? Hardly. After more than a year, I was more entranced than ever with the Elf warrior maid who loved me just as deeply.

We lay quietly together afterwards, basking in the closeness of our bodies and our thoughts, the tender caresses of fingers and lips after coupling, the ease that comes in the embrace of one’s _amrâlimê_. When Míriel hiccupped for her supper, we enfolded her between us, and now our bond grew to include the love of the child we had made from the best of both of us. I wished _Maamr_ understood, but whether she did or not, I knew where my future lay – with Tauriel and Míriel and the children yet to come.

I was eager to turn for home. Whatever _Maamr_ said tomorrow, my promise was fulfilled, and the rest of my life was before me, a life I would never give up. Never.

 

* * *

 

_“I’ll have you, Orc! They’re over here! Hey, Orc! Guard! Guard! The Orcs are over here!”_

_Krugnash whirled at the racket erupting out of the brush where he, Berqk, and their Wargs had bedded down. At least six Dwarves came rushing at them, but the Wargs were on their feet and tearing into the lot of them before they did any damage. But shouts and cries revealed that more were on their way._

_“Head for the inn,” Krugnash snarled, scrambling onto his Warg. “If we can cause enough chaos to shake the Elves away from the Heir, we’ll snatch him.”_

_Berqk looked at him as if he were mad, but given the racket around them, he followed without protest._

 

* * *

 

The six of us had set about the new day as if we were on guard maneuvers. We’d huddled together for breakfast, set our plans, and dispersed on our rounds. Kili had packed our gear and tended Míriel, Rhiannel and Giriel had looked to our horses, and Fallin and Drennal had set an apparently random course through the area to make sure that the guard post was still where Kili said it was. With the exception of Kili, we’d rotated stations throughout the day, so that it seemed that we were merely at our ease, enjoying a walk, a visit with our horses, or a cup of wine in the inn’s common room. We’d made sure that at least four of us opted to share luncheon together in our room, so that we could smuggle food in to Kili and I could suckle Míriel when she was hungry. Still, while the day might have passed in seeming lighthearted pursuits to anyone watching us, we’d found it tedious and tinged with apprehension. All of us, Kili included, had wanted to turn for home, and before trouble found us. I felt sorrow for Kili, for he loved his mother very much, but the life she urged on him was not one he wanted. While he might leave Thorin’s Halls regretting the discord with her, he would not leave regretting his choice of lives.

Finally, after supper, as the sun fell, Drennal slipped into the common room where Rhiannel and I sat.

“She’s coming. There are eight or ten Dwarves with her. Armed.”

“Oh, Valar! Go tell those upstairs. We’ll go out to meet her.”

Drennal ran to alert Kili, Fallin, and Giriel; Rhiannel got up with me. We were both fully armed, as all of us we had been since breakfast. “I hope this isn’t what we think,” my comrade murmured, his face tight. “I don’t want to start a diplomatic incident if she tries to force something on Kili.”

“Nor do I. But I will not let her force Kili to stay here.”

“Nor will I. The Orc Spawn stand together.”

I gave Rhiannel a tight smile and touched his arm in thanks for his solidarity, then we hurried out of the inn to meet Dís and her band in the middle of the path.

“Good eve to you, Lady Dís,” I called, striding towards her. “Have you news for us?”

“There isn’t time for that now,” Dís said shortly. She wasn’t dressed in the finery we’d seen yesterday, but in much more utilitarian tunic, trousers, and heavy boots, and her hair and beard were dressed in simple, unadorned braids. A knife was sheathed in her belt, and an axe hung from the other side. I’d heard Kili say that other races often mistook Dwarf women for Dwarf men, and Kili’s mother showed why. Without her ornate hair dressing, jewelry, and clothing, one had to look closely to see that she was female. Her stride was purposeful, and she didn’t slow as she approached me. “Where is my son?”

So much for her promise to keep silence about Kili’s survival. “What has happened?” I asked sharply.

“Those Orcs following you were seen not far from here. Two of them, mounted, with a third Warg in tow. Where is my son?”

I gestured at the inn. When Dís waved at the Dwarves with her, six of them shouldered past Rhiannel and me to go inside the.

“What are you doing?” I grabbed Dís’s arm as she, too, tried to go past me. “You cannot –”

“As Counselor of Thorin’s Halls, I can and will do whatever is needed to protect my own,” she cut me off.

“You’ve shown his enemies exactly where he is and how to take him!” I pulled her around. “You cannot do this!”

Dís glared at me, and her jaw was set as firmly as granite. “Hold them here,” she said to her other four followers, and they tried to grab Rhiannel and me. We drew our knives to hold them off.

“Fallin! Giriel! Drennal!” I shouted at the inn. “Kili! Dwarves are storming the inn!”

Drennal came sprinting around from the back of the inn, Dwarves in pursuit. Rhiannel called to her, and she sprinted for us.

 

* * *

 

_Krugnash and Berqk had killed the initial rush of Dwarves, and had wormed their way to the side of the stable beside the inn where the Elves had settled. They had a clear view of the path leading to the inn._

_Krugnash nudged Berqk. “The Dwarf Lord comes with soldiers.”_

_Berqk’s eyes fluttered with interest as the she-Elf and one of the male Elves confronted the Dwarf lord and his troops. He grinned. “Dwarves and Elves don’t see eye to eye, it seems.”_

_Adrenaline surged through Krugnash as the Dwarves and Elves scuffled in the path, but he was looking at the upstairs window. “There’s the Dwarf! I’ll go through the front and climb up to his door. You climb up the side of the inn and come over the roof to his window. Leave him alive and unharmed, but you can kill as many of the rest as you want.”_

_Berqk’s grin widened as he pulled out his scimitar. “With pleasure.”_

 

* * *

 

Tauriel’s scream shot through me like lightening. I grabbed Míriel and ran across the hall to the room opposite ours, kicked the door open, and rushed to the window overlooking the path that ran by the inn. Tauriel, Rhiannel, and Drennal were struggling to hold off a lot of Dwarves as well as my mother. To the left, from behind the stable scrabbled three Wargs, two of them bearing Gundebad Orcs. The third was bigger and grossly pregnant, but little slower than the other two. I shoved open the window.

“To your right! Orcs! To your right!” I howled. The surging Dwarves with my friends in their midst paused, spotted the Orcs, and immediately scattered to attack. The Orcs mowed through the Dwarves as easily as a scythe cut hay, and the Wargs savaged more. My mother barely got out of the way of the pregnant Warg before she closed her jaws on a hapless Dwarf, savaging him with her fangs. The Dwarves with their small axes and knives offered no deterrent against the mounted Orcs with their massive scimitars, who barreled straight towards the inn, leaping off their Wargs when they reached the door. As the Wargs circled, chasing and biting anyone that came near, one of the Orcs crashed into the common room downstairs. I heard his growls, the slashes of his scimitar, and the screams of the patrons. The other one came climbing up the outside of the inn, scaling it like a tower, then scrabbling for a foothold on the roof. His boots crashed across the slates, aiming for my room. They planned to trap me between them.

If the Orcs found Míriel, they’d kill her just because they could.

I ran back across to my room, grabbed Míriel and her bag of gowns, fled into Drennal’s room, and barred the door. I tucked Míriel into the bag, and put the bag inside the blanket chest. I hastily pulled my marriage rings from my ears and my finger ring from my hand, put them beside Míriel, closed the bag, closed the chest, and piled bedding on top of it. I nicked my wrist with one of my blades, dabbed a finger into the blood, and on the back of the door I scrawled two words in Quenya. Then I stuck my head out of the window.

The Orc on the roof banged his way towards the window of my room. Fallin and Giriel were up there with him, shouting as their blades rang on his scimitar. Screams and crashes grew closer to the door of my room. I scrambled out of Drennal’s window, hung from the sill, and dropped, rolling in deference to my injured thigh. Then I sprinted towards the barn.

Behind me, an Orc came through Drennal’s window, leaping down after me. I was in the courtyard between the inn and the barn now, and the Orc on top of the roof howled when he saw me. He flung himself over the eave to leave Giriel and Fallin behind, landing with a whump in front of me. I launched myself at him, sword high, screaming curses. Tauriel, Drennal, and Rhiannel pounded after him, only to be cut off when the second Orc came around the corner. The Wargs held the path against the Dwarves, whose knives and axes did little against such large beasts. My friends were caught between the Wargs and the Orcs, and I was caught between the barn and the Orcs.

I pulled out my blade biter, and when the first Orc slashed at me, I caught his blade and sliced mine deeply across his chest, making him howl. I danced away from him –

The backhanded blow across my face came from the second Orc. Bright lights flashed as I was thrown into the air, but they went dark before I landed.

 

* * *

 

“NO!” I shrieked when Kili sprawled by the barn from Krugnash’s blow. My friends launched ourselves at the wounded Orc, but he roared something in Orcish that turned the Wargs from the Dwarves and launched them at us. Rhiannel, Drennal, and I could not counter the beasts, and I had to watch Krugnash haul the limp body of my husband up by his hair, fling him over the back of his Warg, and then mount the beast himself. The second Orc had straddled his beast as well, and they fled howling and snapping up the path and out of sight.

My heart stopped as if it had been torn from my chest, and I fell to my knees with a howl. Kili, my _a’maelamin_ , my _amrâlimê_ , my life –

“Tauriel! You can’t kill yourself! You can’t!” Hands shook me, and my cheek burned. “Míriel needs you, Tauriel! Míriel! Think of your daughter!”

I gasped, and my heart started again. My eyes cleared, meeting Drennal’s deep grey eyes. She’d been the one to shake me, to slap me back into the world.

“Míriel? Míriel... Oh, Valar, Míriel!”

Drennal pulled me to my feet, and we raced to the inn. I caught a dizzying glimpse of Dís running towards me, but I shoved her and everyone else aside as I flung myself into the inn. The common room was smashed, and moaning Dwarves lay among the wreckage of tables and chairs and broken crockery. The bannister up the stairs was splintered, and even the treads were split. Drennal and I forced our way past the shattered door to the room Kili and I had shared, only to find smashed furniture, torn linens, ripped baggage. The window was also smashed.

“Oh Valar, Valar, Míriel’s not here, she’s not here!” I cried, but Drennal pulled me back into the hall.

“We’ll search the other rooms,” she pleaded. “You know Kili wouldn’t have left her to the Orcs, Tauriel. He’s hidden her somewhere.”

I went to my knees to look under the broken bedstead, but found nothing. We searched Giriel and Rhiannel’s room, but also found nothing. That left only Drennal and Fallin’s room, and I went through the shattered door frame knowing we’d find nothing here, either –

I heard a wailing, anguished cry...

“Tauriel! Look at the back of the door!” Drennal cried, hauling me around by my shoulders.

Written on the door in blood, Kili’s blood, was ‘Blanket Chest.’”

Drennal and I shoved away the heaped bed linens, and opened the chest to reveal Míriel’s bag of gowns. I tore it open, and there was my daughter, crying as she never cried. I snatched her up and held her against me, trying to calm myself so that I could calm her.

“Oh, Tauriel,” Drennal gulped. She fished deeper into the bag, and brought out Kili’s marriage rings, holding them in the palm of her hand. “He didn’t want the Orcs to get them.”

I couldn’t stop the sob that forced its way out of my throat –

“Tauriel?” That was Fallin, slipping into the room. “You found Míriel? Is she all right?”

I nodded, but couldn’t speak.

“Kili had time to hide her,” Drennal told him. “She’s scared, but she’s all right.”

“Were any of us hurt?” I whispered.

“Giriel took a good knock on the head, and Rhiannel’s forearm is slashed, but they’re both fit otherwise. Lady Dís is still counting the dead Dwarves. There are many.”

 Oh, Valar, such anger that flared in me! I held Míriel close as I got to my feet, and picked my way down the broken stairs and out of the inn. There was the Counselor of the Blue Dwarves, directing efforts to see to all of the wounded. Already eleven limp and torn forms lay at the side of the path, their faces covered. Many others sat or lay nearby as healers moved among them. But I had no thought for the dead and wounded as I confronted the Counselor with Rhiannel, Giriel, Fallin, and Drennal behind me. Dís read my fury as soon as I drew near, and held up her hands in placation.

“Is this how you protect your own?” I snarled. “You armed yourselves against Gundebad Orcs with mere knives and axes, without a single bow? How could you think that would stop them? All you did was lead the Orcs right to my husband! You put our child at risk, a child you should treasure as much as he does, because he sacrificed himself to protect her!”

My rage was so overwhelming that I howled at the stars, hardly hearing that Míriel wailed almost as loudly as I did. My friends’ hands steadied me when I would have buckled to my knees.

“Tauriel, I am sorry. I truly am.”

“Is that all you can say? Kili honors his promise to you at the risk of his life, and you say merely that you are sorry that you aided the Orcs who took him? You do not deserve half of the regard Kili has for you!” I turned to my friends. “Is everyone fit to ride?”

The affirmative answers were immediate, even though Giriel looked groggy, and Rhiannel had a bloody rag around his left forearm. “Then let us go.”

“Tauriel, please,” Dís put a hand on my forearm, but I shook it off. “It’s full dark, and –”

“I see far better in the dark than you do, Dwarf.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

“You’ll slow us down.”

I turned on my heel and headed for the barn. Drennal and Fallin headed for the inn to collect our baggage; Rhiannel and Giriel came with me to begin tacking up our horses. The sooner we left Thorin’s Halls and her folk behind us, the better.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all.
> 
> After last chapter's shocker, here's the aftermath, as well as a blessing. Then the pursuit is on!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> osellë = sister, comrade

I shook so badly that I could hardly hold Míriel, who still whimpered and butted her head against me. Did she know her father was gone? Oh, Valar, Valar, Kili! Stay alive until I find you, _a’maelamin_! Please stay alive! Please –

“Tauriel.”

Fallin’s hands were on my shoulders, guiding me to a bench in the stable.

“Tauriel. I don’t think we should ride out now. You’re collapsing. You can’t help Kili like this.”

“I can’t leave him to Gundebad Orcs!” I cried. “You know what they’ll do to him, Fallin! You know!”

“I know,” Fallin said heavily, sitting beside me. Silently, Drennal came to sit on the other side of me and put her arm around my shoulders. “But they won’t do it yet. They won’t torture him until they’ve got him to Erebor. We have a little time.”

“Time for what?” I choked. “Time for them to –”

“Time for us to heal,” Fallin said. “Giriel took a blow like Kili did, though not as bad, and she’s seeing double. Rhiannel’s wrist is broken. If they go into healing trance now, they’ll be well by the morn. You could use a little, yourself, and you’ll want to calm Míriel. I had Dís send out scouts to mark the Orcs’ trail. Their Wargs can’t outrun our horses, so we’ll catch up quickly. When we do catch up, we’ll need to be as strong as we can. So take the night to get strong so we can catch them tomorrow.”

I didn’t want to listen to Fallin. Oh, how I didn’t want to! But he was right; the shock of Kili’s abduction had sent my body careening towards collapse. I couldn’t let it collapse. Kili wasn’t dead – I was sure of that, because I would have felt it inside if he were. He was hurt, and in the hands of our enemies, but he wasn’t dead. I had to live if I wanted him back. I had to live to protect our babe. I had to live.

“We’ll ride out tomorrow, then,” I agreed. I buried my head in Drennal’s shoulder to cry, and Fallin wrapped his arms around us both, silent but strong comfort.

“I’m sorry to intrude on you all. But Fallin, I wanted you to know that the scouts are on their way. Both of your kin are tended to, and I’ve had rooms prepared for all of you so you can rest through the night. In the morn, I’ll have supplies and a party of my folk to go with you after the Orcs.”

That was Dís. Her voice was more subdued than I’d thought to hear from one so used to command, but I took no solace in it.

“We’ll take your room, but none of the rest,” I snapped. “You’ve already shown how well suited you are to fighting the Orcs who have my husband. We will spare ourselves more of it.”

Dís sighed heavily. “Aye, you’ve the right to say everything you’ve said and more, lass. I thought you misspoke when you told me how big the Orcs were. I thought Dwarvish axes would be enough.”

“Are you in the habit of ignoring what your own generals say? Your own fighters? Or did you ignore me because I am an Elf, and not to be trusted? Kili paid for your ignorance! Leave me, before I heap even half the invectitude on you that you deserve!”

Fallin murmured to me, urging me to hold my tongue, but shy Drennal glared at Dís with as much outrage as I did.

“I thought you overspoke about the Orcs to make more of your part in Kili’s journey... and in his life. I see you now, and know better. I am sorry I didn’t take your caution as seriously as I should.”

I could barely bring myself to look at Dís. Her hair and clothing were disheveled, and she had blood spattered on her clothing, likely from tending the wounded rather than from injury. She was not the proud, confident counselor now, but a shocked one reeling from the catastrophe that had descended upon her folk. Her words had been spare, but Kili had told me often enough how gruff Dwarves were even in the best of circumstances. Having to apologize to an Elf was only part of the bitter draught Dís had to swallow, because her people had taken the brunt of her mistakes.

“I am sure your words will comfort Kili, if he lives to hear them.” I stifled the urge to keen, as I’d heard Kili do over his uncle’s body. “He is the best of everything, Dís. The light of my life, of the world, of the Valar. No matter what you think of me, how could you ever bear to risk him? How could you?”

I shut my eyes, unable to stand the sight of her. I felt dizzy and cold, and my sight greyed. From far away, I think Drennal eased Míriel from my arms, and voices softened to just murmurs. Perhaps Fallin drew me up, and we walked out of the stable on drifting clouds. I fell into the clouds, thinking they were as soft as the touch of Míriel’s hair.

 

* * *

 

“Kili? Kili... _amrâlimê_ , please answer me...”

“Tauriel, you’ve been in the healing trance. You’re rousing. I’ve got Míriel for you, _osellë_. All is well with her.”

I opened my eyes. I was in a strange bed, in a strange room. Drennal was squeezed in beside me, propped up against the headboard with pillows, holding Míriel in her arms. The bed was short, and so narrow that I was pressed against the wall, and several warm blankets covered me. They were fine wool, elegantly embroidered on the end with Dwarvish knotwork; the sheets beneath them were fine cotton, and the pillows were soft down. The bed was just as elegant, carved fruitwood with a beautifully worked crest inlaid in darker wood decorating the headboard. It had been placed against a short side of the room, with deep shelves at the foot end. Thick curtains hanging from the ceiling could be drawn to enclose the sleeper at night. A window opened above the side of the bed, revealing the light of early morn.

Around the bed was a small room, neatly kept. An old clothes cupboard with faded paint was on the other short wall; a battered worktable and chair was on the wall opposite the door, looking over another window.

“Where are we?” I sat up carefully on the short bed. We were in a Dwarvish place, then.

“In Dís’s house. I think this was Kili’s room.”

Drennal gave me a somber look, not sure if mention of my _a’maelamin_ or his mother would consume me again. But while the healing trance had not eased the ache in my chest, it had calmed and steadied me. I looked over the room again, noting the arrow fletching tools on the worktable, and the collection of feathers standing upright in a cracked glass, ready to be trimmed and fitted to the shaft of an arrow. Another cracked glass held pebbles; a peg by the window held strips of leather harness straps. A pair of hooks on the wall held a trio of bows, all well made.

“Míriel’s very hungry, Tauriel. You’ve been in healing trance for most of the night.”

Indeed, my babe waved her arms and kicked frantically, her back arched, and her head turned from side to side as she vainly searched for my breast. I unhooked my tunic and took her from Drennal, and sat beside my comrade cross-legged against the headboard while Míriel fed eagerly.

“Thank you for watching over me during the night, and soothing Míriel,” I said gratefully.

Drennal smiled as she stroked Míriel’s head. “You will return the courtesy next summer, I hope.”

Startled, I searched her face, but she made no jest. “Truth?”

She nodded, still smiling. “Truth.”

“Have you told Fallin?”

She nodded again. “He is quite happy. But that is a joy to fully savor later. First we must get Kili back.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “So we shall, as soon as Míriel is full.”

“Are you going to let the Dwarves come with us after Kili?”

My jaw tightened. “I don’t want anything to do with them, Drennal, not after they made such a mess last night. But I won’t be able to stop them, whatever they decide to do, nor will I try. I will trust that our horses can outrun anything they choose to ride, and I hope that will give us the time to deal with the Orcs before the Dwarves catch up.”

Drennal sighed, still stroking Míriel’s head. “I was so angry at them last night, Tauriel. When I ran into the inn, they stopped me from going upstairs, so I never did get to Rhiannel or Giriel or Kili. I shouted up to them, and I think they heard me, but I had to dodge around the common room and duck out through the larder door to get outside again. I saw Giriel climb out of the window with Rhiannel, to get on the roof as I ran after you and Fallin.”

I hummed in commiseration. “All the Dwarves did was to get in the way. And why they didn’t have a bow among them, I don’t understand.”

“Nor I.”

Míriel had sated herself to the point that she was cross-eyed. Normally that would have made me smile, but today it could not divert me from my missing husband. I fastened my tunic and got up. I needed to find Míriel’s bag for a clean diaper, but before I left Kili’s childhood room, I took down one of the bows that hung on his wall. It was the heaviest, and a quiver of the arrows for it was bound to it by the loose bowstring.

“He’s missed having a Dwarvish bow. I’ll take him this one.”

Drennal took it from me wordlessly. Mindful of the low ceiling and lintel, we opened the door, and made our way towards the sound of soft voices.

Dís’s kitchen was dark, warm, and full of tall Elves seated around her table. Rhiannel and Giriel both looked alert and comfortable, testimony to the success of their healing. Fallin’s face lit up when he saw Drennal, and he hastened to her side. They whispered softly together in Quenya, the inquiries and assurances that _a’maelamins_ indulge in to reassure each other. Fallin drew Drennal down beside him, leaving me with Míriel in my arms to face Dís.

It gave me no pleasure to see that her face was more careworn than yesterday, likely from lack of sleep. Nor did her stoic determination make me think she was noble or courageous. A Gundebad Orc had hauled my husband across the neck of his Warg like so much dead game, and I found no sympathy for the one whose misguided efforts had given that Orc his chance to do so.

“Dís,” I acknowledged curtly.

“Tauriel,” she returned in a softer tone.

“Rhiannel, Giriel, you are well this morning?” I asked in the Common Tongue. I should have used Quenya to keep our business private, but Dís had provided us shelter for the night and breakfast this morning, so I offered her that much courtesy in return.

“My head’s clear,” Giriel replied soberly. “Eyesight, too. I’m ready when you are.”

“So am I,” Rhiannel offered. “My wrist is sound, without pain.”

“I’ll eat quickly, and see to Míriel, and then we can be off. Do we know which way the Orcs went?”

Fallin nodded. “I heard from the scouts this morning. Their path is clear.”

I nodded thanks. Then I forced myself to acknowledge who had provided the scouts. “I thank you for sending out the scouts, Dís. I will eat quickly, and then we will be off. Elves will trouble you no more.”

It was an ill thing to be so disparaging of a host, but I was already hard-pressed to be civil at all. I spooned up a bowl of porridge in jerky movements while the others finished their cakes and tea. I took a quick drink of tea, crammed down a pair of cakes, and got up to find Míriel’s bag of gowns for a fresh diaper. My friends dispersed to collect their things and see to the horses, while I laid Míriel on a blanket to diaper her. Dís watched me in silence, perhaps trying to find something conciliatory to say.

“You do not understand,” I finally forced myself to say into the silence as I cleaned Míriel. “You think what is between Kili and me is infatuation only, a passing delight. If Kili did not tell you, then I will. Elves do not have ‘infatuations,’ Dís. We rarely love at all. When we do, we love but once in our long lives, and Kili is my one love. I am his one love. Nothing changes that, short of death, and when one dies, so does the other. It is irrevocable.”

“I didn’t understand,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to now. I’ve given Fallin all the supplies he said you needed, and we’ve got your horses fed, well groomed, and saddled. I’ve also got a troop of twenty Dwarves to go with you, plus myself.”

My throat clenched as I pinned Míriel’s diaper, slipped her into a clean gown, and cuddled her close.

“I do not want your troops, Dís. They cannot keep up with our horses, and I will not delay my pursuit for them. I will not risk another mistake to save Kili’s life. If he dies, I die, and if I die, then Míriel likely will, too. Think what you like of me, of all Elves. But this babe is your granddaughter, and I ask you not to risk her life or Kili’s.

“If you choose to ride after us, which I expect you will do,” I met her gaze without a blink, “then make sure you bring bows this time. I have taken one of Kili’s from his room upstairs for him. Use them wisely. And for Kili’s sake, stay out of our way.”

I slipped Míriel into her swaddle against my chest, took up her bag and my own, and went past Dís to the door. At the last second, I forced myself to say the words.

“I thank you for my place of rest and for breakfast.”

The words didn’t sound gracious, even to me.

My friends were already mounted when I came outside with Míriel. The packhorse and Trellennan had all of our baggage split between them, which meant that they both traveled lighter, as did we. Beyond us, Dís’s contingent of Dwarves busied themselves packing their rams with the things they’d chosen to bear with them after Kili. I had to admit that these were sturdy, experienced warriors, all of them armed with axes worthy of the name. Fully half of them carried bows, which was also a good sign. Some of them murmured at sight of me, but as I didn’t understand _Khazuduhl_ , I didn’t know if they were as impressed with me as I was with their Counselor. I mounted Jalsin, settled Míriel comfortably, and fell behind Fallin as we left Dís’s house behind.

Fallin had already talked at length with the scouts that had traced the Orcs, so he set a fast pace for us once the horses were well warmed. They’d fled Thorin’s Halls and turned east, heading in as straight a line towards Mount Gundebad as an arrow. I remembered the map Kili had drawn for us – the Orcs would likely ride just north of the Little Lhûn River until they reached the Lhûn River, cross it, ride north of the Hills of Evendium and the North Downs, and then they’d have a straight path of some four hundred miles to reach their home. It was another three hundred miles to Erebor after that, but if we didn’t catch them before they reached Mount Gundebad, we’d have more Orcs to oppose us.

I hoped we’d catch up to them in the next day or so, but something told me to prepare for the worst. If it came to it, we would have to force Krugnash and his fellow Orc south, past the Ettenmoors. The Misty Mountains to the east would force them further south, and perhaps we could drive them to Imladris where we would find more reinforcements.

Oh, Valar, don’t let this pursuit go that far. For Kili’s sake, let us catch his abductors quickly!

And keep the Dwarves behind us out of my way.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all.
> 
> This is a very nasty chapter. Don't read it if you don't want to read what Orcs do to their prisoners. There is enough profanity, sadism, attempted sodomy, animal cruelty, blood, and hallucinating to give any reasonable person night terrors. And there's a desperate attempt to placate a Warg.
> 
> Don't say I didn't warn you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> kurvanog lulgijakone = fucking Elves, literally fucking flowers in the blood  
> zanbaur – Elf’s son  
> undur kurv – ugly bastard (literally, fat whore)

  _As the Elves rode away, Dís turned to Ferrisch. “Make sure we’ve loaded extra quivers for each of the bowmen. I’ll get my carry sack and join you in a few moments.”_

_“Yes, Dís,” the gruff old warrior acknowledged as Dís headed inside her house._

_She shut the door, and padded slowly into the kitchen. Despite the need for speed, she leaned on the kitchen table with bowed head and closed eyes._

_How had she had a son like Kili, the tall, graceful, lad with golden light in his eyes and magic in his smile, the lad who was clever and quick and cheerful, no matter how ugly the maids thought him – how had she been blessed with such a son, only to bungle his homecoming so disastrously?_

_To see him alive and breathing again when she thought him dead, to feel the warmth of his magical smile that had secretly delighted her when he had spilled all the spools in her sewing box over the floor to watch them scatter, or slipped a frog into Thorin’s bed, or discovered a nest of wood thrushes... how the breath had gone from her lungs! How handsome he had looked by the fireplace in his blue coat with his hair so glossy, his braids finally neat and elegant, with shining rings in his ears and on his hand – and his bairn! She had her father’s happy spirit, and something more..._

_The bairn’s ethereal, otherworldly glow came from her mother, the willowy Elf maid with eyes of adamant emerald and a spine of forged steel. To see Kili and Tauriel look at one another was to know that her son would never take the path ordained for Thorin and Fili to the throne of Erebor._

_Why had that angered her so? Old Balin and his brother Dwalin had told her about the gold sickness that had claimed_ _Thorin until the very end, just as it had Thrain and Thror before him. It had kept Thorin from treating with the king of the Woodland Elves and the Men of Laketown, and that delay had contributed to Fili’s death as well as Thorin’s. Why would she wish that on the son she adored? Kili was wiser than Thorin and his ancestors in wanting to avoid Erebor, and not just because of gold sickness. He and Tauriel had both argued why a different path made more sense, and all she’d done was to search the heraldry book for ways to bend him to the one path he refused to take._

_She sat down, her face in her hands. She hadn’t wanted to lose her son to an Elf, no matter how he looked at her, no matter how magical their bairn. She hadn’t wanted to give credence to an Elf when Tauriel had described the Orcs in the starkest terms. No Orcs were eight feet tall on Wargs almost that tall at the shoulder – the reality would be smaller, and easily taken down with a stout axe. But Tauriel hadn’t exaggerated – just two of those huge Orcs had killed nearly a score of her folk, injured almost as many more, and taken her remaining son for slaughter before the gates of Erebor._

_When the Orcs had dragged Kili away like so much carrion, Tauriel had blanched as pale as a wraith, and her emerald eyes had burned with fury so hot she would have burned Dís to ashes if she could have. When Tauriel’s rage had died, the despair that replaced it had been Dís’s final shame, for she’d done as much harm to her son as she’d done to the Elf he loved, and to their winsome bairn._

_Hadn’t she always known that the maid who captured Kili’s heart would be as rare as he was? And wasn’t it fitting that she would be an Elf? How much of her own life had she forgotten?_

_Dís pushed herself away from the table, found her carry sack, and hoisted it over her shoulder. She didn’t know how to save her son. She didn’t know how to make amends to a perilous Elf maid who raged with so much fury, who cried with so much despair. Somewhere on the eastern steppes, she’d have to learn both._

_* * *_

 

“You’re in a spot this time, Kil.”

I couldn’t pry my eyes open. Something sticky glued them shut. I didn’t want to open them, anyway. The world bobbed up and down, up and down, up and down.

So dizzy. It made my stomach queasy. So queasy that I wished I’d retch. But Dwarves didn’t retch very often. I’d been six the last time I’d emptied out. Too many somethings... Green apples? Green plums? Summertime in an orchard, long, long ago...

Up and down, up and down, up and down...

I wish I could retch...

 

* * *

 

“You’re still in a spot, Kil.”

Fili’s voice insinuated itself out of the fog. Fili was dead. Was I dead? Was this what it was like to die?

Up and down, up and down, up and down....

Valar, I hadn’t thought dying would be so sickening. The world wouldn’t hold still. All this up and down, up and down, up and down... I had nothing in my stomach to empty out. It hurt so badly that I clenched all over. Now I hurt all over – every muscle, every tendon... My head was the worst. It felt like Gandalf’s fireworks went up when the world went up, and exploded when the world went down.

Up and down, up and down, up and down...

“You can’t stay in this spot, Kil.”

“G-g-g-go – go away, Fili. Go – go away. You’re dead. Dead.”

“You’re close to it, yourself. Let go. I’ll take care of you, and you won’t hurt so much.”

“I don’t want to die. There’s Tauriel. And Míriel. I want to go back to them.”

“That’s a tough path from here, Kil. Just let go.”

I shut my eyes.

Up and down, up and down, up and down...

 

* * *

 

“You don’t want to wake up.”

Fili was still talking to me, so I must still be out of my head, even though the world had stopped bobbing up and down. Something jerked my head up by my hair, and water poured into my mouth. I swallowed some of it, but it came too fast, and I choked. Cursing. My head fell back down, my cheek scraping against rough hide. Was I sort of upside down? I coughed until my lungs were clear, then my head was jerked back up again, and water poured in my mouth again, but slower so I could swallow more of it. The hold on my hair let go, and my head flopped back down against the rough hide. There was coarse hair on the hide.

The world went back to up and down, up and down, up and down...

 

* * *

 

“Don’t wake up, Kil. If you wake up, you’re going to hurt.”

I cursed Fili. How was I supposed to not wake up when he told me not to? It was like having someone tell you not to think of apple crumble, but as soon as he said the words, you couldn't help but think of apple crumble.

“I mean it, Kili. Stay out.”

“Then stop talking, _doh kro_ ,” I mumbled. “I can’t stay out with you yammering.”

It was no good. Aches and pains flooded in. It was impossible to dive back into oblivion. I stayed limp, but it didn’t help. I started to sort everything out.

I was tied face down on top of something. An animal. An animal with rough, matted, black fur. My chest and belly were against the animal’s backbone. My arms stretched down and around the animal just behind its shoulders. My wrists were lashed to harness straps. My legs were stretched around the animal’s belly and bound to straps as well. A rope around my neck was knotted to harness atop the animal’s spine, just below the shoulders –

Oh, and oh and oh, I was tied to a Warg riding harness. The animal was a Warg. The up and down, up and down, up and down was the motion of the Warg’s gait.

My eyes were still glued shut, but not as badly. I rubbed my face against the Warg’s rough fur to get at least one of them open. When I blinked, the other came open. I looked through a tangle of my hair at scrubby brown grass flitting by, and the intermittent sight of the Warg’s paws as it ran.

I’d been tied to this Warg for some time, because my wrists and ankles were raw under the ropes, and my shoulders were on fire from the unnatural angle they’d been forced to hold. My head felt too heavy to hold up, and it banged against the Warg’s shoulder blade with every stride. My thigh that had taken the arrow was on fire. My belly was sore from the constant rubbing against the Warg’s fur, and what it felt like lower down bore no considering –

I didn’t have a stitch on. I’d been stripped naked and tied to a Warg.

“You’ve been like that for four days. Good thing you were out for most of it.”

Fili again. I must be running a fever, or maybe the bang on the head was giving me visions. I ignored the voice as I tried to take stock of where I was, where the Orcs were, if anyone else was with us. I saw nothing but steppe to my left, for my neck was tied to the left side of the Warg’s riding handhold. I heard occasional snorts from at least two other Wargs, but nothing from the Orcs. It was hard to concentrate, given the blow I’d taken to my head. The pain grew excruciating no matter how hard I tried to put myself in the daze I’d used to make Dwalin’s training runs bearable, and eventually I greyed out again.

When I woke it was night. The Warg under me was standing, no longer running, but it shifted on its feet uneasily. I sensed a heavy body striding closer, and went limp. Maybe he’d leave me alone if he thought I was still unconscious. He pulled my head up by my hair and pinched my nose shut with his fingers. When my mouth came open, liquid was squirted deep into my throat. It burned like acid, making me choke and cough. More went down my throat, then hands held my mouth shut until I had to swallow. I couldn’t keep from pulling back, trying to free myself to breathe, and then the hands let me go. I coughed and coughed, and no matter how hard those two Orcs laughed, I couldn’t stop. When I finally did, I lay as limply as a rag against my bonds, ribs heaving as I struggled to breathe.

“Untie him,” one of the Orcs growled. Even when the second Orc untied the thongs that bound me, I couldn’t move. I had stiffened in the contorted position they’d tied me into four days ago, and even the thought of moving had every muscle and joint screaming. When one of them seized my arm and pulled me over the side of the Warg, I crumpled to the ground in agony.

“We’ll see some sport tonight,” the second Orc snickered.

“Put him in the middle,” returned the first Orc.

The strap around my neck had a long end, and the second Orc used it to drag me away from the Warg. I frantically tried to grab the strap to keep from strangling as I was dragged maybe fifteen feet. As I panted to get my wind back, the Orc pounded an iron stake into the ground, looped the strap through the ring at the end of the stake, and tied it fast. He returned to the side of the first one only long enough to grab a handful of something, then he was beside me. He grabbed my hair, stepped on it to hold me down, put his other boot in my back, and rubbed something wet and sticky all over me.

Meat. It was raw meat, still bloody. He slathered the blood over me until I looked like something escaped from the butcher shop. He let me go and returned to the first Orc before he tossed the meat to one of the Wargs. It, like any meat eater, snapped it up and looked for more. He sniffed in my direction, got up from his crouch, and edged closer. I scrambled to my feet and backed away as far as the strap let me go. The Warg was tethered with a collar and a chain just as I was, so I was just out of its range –

But not out of range of the second Warg, who was just as hungry. When I flinched away from that one, I came within range of the third. And then I understood what I was in the middle of – three Wargs, all hungry, and me stinking of fresh blood.

 

* * *

 

Despite our best efforts, we did not catch up to the Orcs that day. If anything could have made that worse, it was to find Kili’s discarded clothing, from boots to braid ties, dumped in the middle of their trail some six hours after we left Thorin’s Hall. The trail was hours old, so I howled my fury to the skies without restraint. Míriel wailed hopelessly when I did so, which was the only thing that could quiet me. I could not give in to despair like that again because it hurt our babe. As I gathered up Kili’s things and stowed them in my gear, I tried to take heart because they were only dirty, not bloody.

We found only their trail for the next several days. I was frantic. What if we’d misjudged the Orc’s path back to Mount Gundebad? We’d followed the sign that the Dwarvish scouts had mapped, and then the sign on across the steppe, but we came no closer to them. They must be driving their Wargs like fiends both night and day to travel so far so fast. But if they concentrated on speed, then perhaps they had not hurt Kili...

Míriel wailed. Inside, so did I.

 

* * *

 

Most of the night was gone before the Orcs finally shortened the Wargs’ tethers. They’d watched me scramble between the three of them until I couldn’t stand before they’d done so, though. Some of the blood coating me was mine, now, and I was too exhausted to move from where I’d fallen. I lay there for what seemed like only a moment, but I’d probably passed out or fallen asleep, for it was now morning. I woke up when a boot kicked me over onto my back, a hand pulled my head up by the hair – that was getting old, and sore – and more of the acid went down my throat. Whatever it was, it had me awake and kicking with a vengeance, which only earned me another kick. When I’d stopped gasping, I got another draught of water forced down my throat. No food. The strap around my neck tightened as I was dragged back onto the Warg and tied hand and foot again.

Up and down, up and down, up and down...

With the stuff they’d dosed me with coursing through me, I didn’t lose consciousness, so felt every yank of bonds scraping against raw wrists and ankles, every burr in rough Warg fur digging into my raw belly. I didn’t want to think about what my cock and balls felt like, so I tried to piece together the scattered impressions that had drifted past me.

There were two Orcs. The big one who ordered the slightly shorter one about was Krugnash. He had orange eyes that burned like coal in a fire pit. Small ears, a flat nose that was little more than two slits, and a missing finger on his right hand that didn’t deter him from wielding a long scimitar. His skin was not the usual dead grey of Orcs, but full black, heavily scarred. He had a full head of hair as coarse as iron wool, matted into trailing tails including one looped at the back of his skull. Teeth, ears, flayed faces, and even a finger or two dangled from the loop. His jaws were much longer than the average Orc’s, full of snaggleteeth in the front and a foursome of canines as long as my little finger. He was as big as Bolg, but in better health, because he hadn’t embedded his armor in his flesh. If there were such a thing as refined Orcish metalwork, Krugnash’s armor was it, a series of articulated metal plates across his shoulders and down his upper arms and also on his lower legs. His boots matched the spiky armament that embellished the armor plates. The only leather he wore was the flayed skin of his enemies around his loins.

That was too sick to joke about.

The other one was Berqk. He was slightly shorter, but just as muscular, just as scarred. If his face was less animalistic, it was slyer and crueler. His nose had been smashed flat at some point, which gave more prominence to his pointed teeth and odd red eyes. He didn’t have the massive fangs that Krugnash did, but what he did have looked fierce enough to rip half my arm off as a snack. He carried a bow as well as a scimitar. His armor was of a kind with Krugnash’s, if not quite as fancy, and his trophy leather was not as extensive. He did, however, have a couple of heads dangling from the harness of his Warg.

The Warg I rode stumbled, wrenching my arms badly when she scrambled to get her front legs under her. She was bigger than the ones the Orcs rode, both of which were male and smaller. They were varying shades of brown and black, well-fed, well-muscled. The female was pregnant, and I wondered why she was treated so badly. Wargs had a female hierarchy, which should have meant she’d put the males in their place. The Orcs raised the pups, too, which should have made this one especially prized. But she was regularly cursed and whipped – I’d caught a few of the blows meant for her – and dragged behind Berqk’s Warg by a chain. The two males had learned to gang up on her to take most of the food, and now she had a rank Dwarf tied to her back. It seemed that she was as much a prisoner as I was.

Berqk, the bastard, had tied me so tightly to the Warg that I had no play in my bonds that would have made either my life or the Warg’s easier. She felt every jerk on her harness as painfully as I did. At least I drifted off now and again when the pain got to be too much.

“That’s not much comfort,” Fili said.

“Shut up,” I muttered. “Or I’ll end up envying a Warg because she doesn’t have to listen to you be a _doh kro.”_

“I’m not the one tied spread-eagled over the back of a Warg scraping my cock down to a nub.”

“Oh, am I? I’d managed to forget how excruciating that feels until you reminded me. If you can’t stop being an ass, go away.”

“I told you before, Kili. Just let go. I’ll catch you, and we’ll be together, away from the lot of it.”

“And I told you, Fil. I’m married now. I have a wife and a child. I won’t let go because I want to see them again.”

“What, out here? The only things out here are those couple of Orcs like the ones who killed me, and three Wargs. They’ll make it a lot worse for you before it gets better.”

“Tauriel’s behind us. She and the Orc Spawn are coming after me.”

“The Orcs have run flat out for four days, Kil. They’ve barely stopped to take a piss. Even Elvish horses won’t catch up.”

“You’re cheerful. Why are you so fucking cheerful?”

“Just stating the obvious, _br_ _àthair_. Remember all the times I fought for you when we were little? I hated to see you bullied. I hate watching what the Orcs are doing to you now. I can’t stop them this time unless you let go. Let go so I can take care of you.”

The Warg stumbled again, and I couldn’t suppress a gasp. Another few like that, and my arms would pull out of their sockets. To let go of that pain, of all of it, was so, so tempting.

“Tauriel’s behind us, Fili. I’ll hold on for her.”

Fili’s sigh was painful, but not as painful as it was the next time the Warg stumbled.

 

* * *

 

It was dark again. I was still tied to the back of the Warg, but both of the Orcs were off theirs, talking in the guttural Black Speech they favored. I’d learned a little from Dwalin, mostly cursing, but enough other to follow simple sentences. They stood off to the side, their Wargs resting beyond. My Warg was panting.

“How long does it take for her to whelp?” Berqk growled, staring at my Warg.

“Long enough. Why else do you think we’ve run so hard for the past five days? We needed to stay far enough ahead of the scum behind us so that they don’t catch up before she’s squeezed out her runts.”

“You don’t know whether anyone’s behind us or not.”

“I don’t have to see them to know they’re back there. No lot of _kurvanog lulgijakone_ journeys as far as they did just to let us snatch their little prince away.”

“Dwarves or Elves?”

“Does it matter?”

“Elves are faster.”

“That’s why we’ve ridden so hard.”

“She’s still standing.”

“Look at the blood running down her back legs, scum. They’re coming.”

Berqk snorted. “Better hope they come fast.”

Krugnash turned towards his Warg. “Might as well eat and rest while they do. Likely she’s carrying a full dozen of the runts.”

The Warg shifted underneath me. As badly as I felt, I still sensed her pain in the way she flinched and whined. She wanted to lie down, but her belly was so swollen that it was probably too painful for her to want to scrape it on the dry grass. Eventually she did, and quickly rolled over on her side, trapping my arm under her. Now I moaned with her – my arm felt close to breaking.

“The Dwarf’s almost under her, Krugnash. If she doesn’t break his arm, she’ll smother him.”

Krugnash snarled in annoyance. “Take him off, then. Tether him between the males.”

Berqk got up leisurely, ambling over to the laboring Warg in a roundabout way to keep out of reach of her fangs. He took his time untying me and did it in the most painful way possible. If I couldn’t suppress a hiss, he slowed and dragged it out even more. I went limp, thinking that if he thought I’d passed out, he’d just get on with it, and so it seemed. I fell in a heap beside the laboring Warg. He held the strap near to my neck to drag me closer to the two male Wargs. I couldn’t tell for sure, because I was trying to stay limp despite not being able to breathe, but I thought he shot a furtive look back at Krugnash before he squatted beside me to hammer in the tether spike. But he hesitated, maybe looking back again. Then his hand ran down my chest, over my belly, to rest on my cock –

I couldn’t help myself. I shrieked, spasmed, and kicked out blindly, catching the bastard in the teeth with the heel of my foot better than if I’d tried to do it. Krugnash, who had been intent on the pregnant Warg, snapped around and rushed over to kick Berqk away from me. As Berqk fell on his face, I scrabbled away from him, my skin crawling in gooseflesh and my mouth dry, but Krugnash yanked me backwards with the strap.

“Stay away from the Dwarf!” he snarled at Berqk, and gave him another kick that I hoped broke ribs. “You can stand in line to fuck him with everyone else when we get him to the Dragon’s Mount. Until then, keep your flimsy twig to yourself!”

Berqk cursed the bigger Orc roundly, which gained him nothing but more of Krugnash’s ridicule. He slunk away as Krugnash tied my leash to the tethering spike. The bigger Orc grinned to see me shaking, and gave my rump a sharp pinch.

“A little thin, but I expect it’ll serve well enough for anyone who likes a Dwarf’s ass. Savor the thought, Heir of Durin.”

“I’m no heir, _undur kurv._ Halfbreeds can’t rule,” I rasped.

He laughed. “They’re just as good a fuck as a pureblood, _zanbaur_. In fact, I know Orcs who’d enjoy fucking two cursed races at once.”

He stalked away, back to watch the Warg bitch.

I stayed frozen in a knot, trying to stop shaking and sweating, but couldn’t do either. Even when the male Wargs strained their chains to nip at my feet, I couldn’t move. The thought of that taloned hand on me made me cower like an animal.

By the time I could move, the Warg was panting audibly, and straining. The first pup slithered to the ground. Over the next couple of hours, she produced more pups. I think she still had a few more to bring forth when Krugnash took up the first one by the scruff of its neck and slit its throat as casually as if he were slicing ham for supper. Despite the fierceness of Wargs, the cruelty of Orcs was far worse. Krugnash would kill all of her pups without hesitation –

A hand clapped over my mouth. Berqk had stealthily untied my leash from the tether spike and now carried me off behind the two male Wargs. I tried to fight, but he’d pinned me under his arm so tightly that I couldn’t budge. Behind the male Wargs, he pushed me face down against the scrub, his hand still over my mouth and his weight pressing heavily on my shoulders. His boots forced my legs apart, and he lowered down on me –

In panic, I bit down on the hand over my mouth with all the force I could muster. He howled, my mouth filled with a gush of black blood, then I shrieked. Valar, oh Valar, not this, not this –

Berqk’s weight was torn away from me as Krugnash waded in with boots and fists and teeth. The two Orcs tore at each other, making as much noise as their snarling Wargs. I bolted up, wanting nothing other than to flee far, far, far into the dark, away from Berqk’s stinking body and grasping hands –

I had just enough presence of mind to realize that if I fled into the dark, the Orcs would track me down, and who knew what they’d do when they caught me. So I turned to the only creature that might shelter me, the Warg who had just given birth.

I scrambled towards her as she struggled to her feet, sniffing at the heap of her dead pups and whining in anguish. I dodged around her hindquarters, scrabbling to find the bloody afterbirth sliming the ground, then rolling in it until I was covered in the mess. I didn’t have to fake a whimper, because the part of me not utterly terrified of buggering Orcs was just as terrified of Warg fangs. She turned, hearing me, and I looked up into feral yellow eyes full of pain, fury, and loss. She growled and her teeth gaped wide as they lowered over me. I shut my eyes, and wished I’d been able to see Tauriel and Míriel once more before I died –

A long nose sniffed me suspiciously. I curled into a ball and squeaked like one of the wolfhound pups put into the baskets of the nomad bairns. I stayed limp as that long nose poked at me. A long, long moment went by. Then a raspy tongue stretched out to lick me clean.

It felt far cleaner than the touch of an Orc’s hand.

I didn’t dare relax. The Orcs still brawled back and forth, creating such a racket that if my _amrâlimê_ were anywhere close, the noise would draw her near. The Warg wasn’t sure what to make of her strange babe, but she folded down with me between her front paws to lick me thoroughly. When she deemed me clean enough, she shifted to curl around me, nosing me to push me where she wanted me, which was against her belly. But when I was against her, she kept nosing me, nosing me...

Healthy pups were supposed to suckle. That’s what she wanted, to know that I was well.

Could I suckle a Warg?

I hadn’t eaten in five days. I’d had little enough water. If this kept me alive, I’d manage.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. There is a lot of Orcish and Dwarvish swearing (and even a little Elvish swearing), and some amount of Orcish cruelty, but nothing too awful. Take this under advisement if you don't care for either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> Khazuduhl (Dwrarvish)  
> Leibz maamr as bi an ha'ak! Your mother was a dog!  
> Grimmaz = Fierce One
> 
>  
> 
> Orcish  
> kurvanug lulgijakone – fucking Elves  
> kurvanug shakutarbik – fucking Dwarf  
> zanbaur – Elf’s son  
> nar thos – no sack  
> undur kurv – fat whore  
> shemator kautar = ugly squirrel
> 
> Quenya  
> osellëa = sisters, comrades

_The tall Elf shown into my tent was the male who’d supported Tauriel in the barn. He was dark-haired, dark-eyed, spare of movement, and somber. If it galled him to bow to me, he didn’t show it, which was a courtesy I appreciated all the more because I didn’t deserve it._

_“Lady Dís,” he said quietly. His voice was low, accented, and thoughtfully cadenced, as all Elves’ voices seemed to be. Kili had acquired the same accent, I recalled with a pang. “I am Fallin. I am glad you choose to rest nearby. It will enhance protection for both our folk.”_

_My scouts had found the Elves’ encampment on the steppes, and I had settled us nearby in hopes that I might find some way to speak to them. But Fallin had come to me as soon as he had seen us._

_“That’s what I thought, too.” I offered my hands in greeting, which the Elf was gracious enough to take. “Thank you, Fallin, for speaking with me. How is Tauriel?”_

_Fallin’s sigh was faint, but concerned. “Someone stays with her. So despite the discord between us, I am glad that we camp near to one another. Kili is gone, Tauriel is not herself, and one of us stays with her and our babe, so we are not at strength at night. It is easier for her when we travel, for she can focus on pursuit.”_

_I nodded understanding, swallowing when Fallin called Míriel “our” babe. Elvish children were even rarer than Dwarvish ones, so it made sense that they valued any among them. I wished I had taken that more to heart when I had first seen Míriel. “However my people and I can support you, you have only to ask. Míriel is well, I hope?”_

_Fallin sighed again. “The babe suffers her parents’ despair.”_

_“I am sorry, which is a hard thing for a Dwarf to admit. I can only repeat that if there is anything that will help her or her dam that my folk can offer, we do so.”_

_Fallin stilled, then his dark eyes held mine. “Then I would ask you to offer your patience and forbearance, Lady, and to remember that our enemies are the Orcs who hold your son and our friend, not each other. It would be wise to plan our pursuit together now, so we can make the most of it come the morn. Tauriel is our best strategist, so this will not be an easy council, but I still urge it.”_

_“Of course. My tent is open to you.”_

_Fallin stilled again, perhaps seeking to word his answer diplomatically, courteously, when perhaps his first thoughts were harsher. Again, I appreciated a consideration that I didn’t deserve. “In deference to Tauriel and our babe, I invite you to our tent. It would be more comfortable for them, I think.”_

_“Of course. I would like to bring my general, as he is our best strategist.”_

_“He will be welcome. We have been settled for some time, so we await your convenience once you have made your own camp.”_

_“My warriors know their routine without me reminding them of it, so I will fetch Ferrisch and come with you.”_

_Fallin bowed. “Of course.”_

_I led him out of my tent, beckoned to Ferrisch, and we went with the somber Elf._

 

* * *

We had pitched our tent some time ago, and the night was halfway done. Fallin, Giriel, and Rhiannel were outside, standing watch while Drennal sat with Míriel and me. The babe was on her blanket beside us, sitting up and grasping her squeaky ball to gum it busily. She was almost her usual happy self, gurgling and cooing at the ball, though now and again she would stop her play and look around.

Was she searching for Kili?

When the ball rolled away from her hands, she reached for it, almost toppling over, but grasping my thumb to keep her steady. I rolled it back to her, bringing a gleeful smile to her face as she pounced on it. She would soon move from her gowns to leggings, tunics, and tiny socks that would let her crawl without entanglement. Then how happy she would be to pull off those tiny socks and fling them at her father –

My throat closed. Was there nothing that didn’t remind me of Kili, make me ache for him?

Fallin ducked inside our tent and came straight to Drennal and me. He sat himself beside us, reaching out to fluff Míriel’s hair.

“The Dwarves have made camp nearby. I think it would be wise for us to plot strategy together for the morn.”

Drennal shot me a narrow look, then a frown at Fallin. “You are right,” I agreed, but without enthusiasm.

“I have asked Dís and her general to join us here. You are our strategist and tactician, Tauriel, so I thought you would be more comfortable in our tent than in theirs. Giriel will stay outside with Rhiannel while we talk.”

Despite the ache in my chest, I couldn’t resist a smile. Giriel had made no secret of her anger at the Dwarves’ blundering.

“We aren’t even the Elves that her folk are so pissed at!” she’d ranted. I’d laughed at her bluntness, yet ached at her use of one of Kili’s favorite disparagements. He was truly a corrupting influence. “Are they just too stupid to tell us apart, or are they trying to start a new feud?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Drennal had replied with unusual exasperation. “In either case, they put _mellon_ _nin_ Kili at terrible risk. I can’t think of words bad enough to say how pissed I am at them.”

Remembering the words of my _osellëa_ lightened my heart a little, but Drennal glowered beside me. She clenched Míriel’s squeaky ball, drawing our babe to burble at her auntie impatiently, wanting her toy back.

“I’ll still be right here,” Drennal said. “So she’ll have to stand me glaring at her.”

Fallin and I exchanged wry looks. “She’s outside. Her general’s name is Ferrisch.”

“Let them in, then.”

Fallin got up to lead in the two Dwarves. Fallin indicated places for them to sit with us in the center of our tent. When they sat quietly, Fallin sat to my left.

“Dís,” I nodded evenly. “And Ferrisch. You have not met _mellon nin_ , my friend, Drennal.”

“Tauriel, Drennal,” Dís acknowledged, and so did the grizzled Dwarf beside her. Ferrisch was likely Dwalin’s age, despite having much more hair than Thorin’s general, all of it in long grey plaits that stretched from ear to hip. He had a badly scarred cheekbone, equally scarred hands, and clan tattoos on his arms that revealed the long length of his service on the line. Such a man would be comfortable only with a weapon in his hands, but neither he nor Dís had borne any arms into our tent. Part of me was aware that they had taken pains to act the good ally, but my worry for Kili would not let me make much of that beyond notice. It would take more than polite gestures to make up for the harm done to my husband.

I nodded to Fallin; he was leader of the Orc Spawn, so he would lead our council of war. He summarized what we had surmised about the intent of the Orcs, and our hope that their interest in spiting Erebor meant Kili would not die beforehand. He also noted the speed that the Orcs had maintained since taking Kili from Thorin’s Halls. Fallin thought that meant the Orcs expected pursuit and raced to stay ahead of our Elvish horses, but we couldn’t be sure of that. He also drew out the map Kili had drawn for us, to show Dís and Ferrisch the route we expected the Orcs to take.

“How many warriors are with you?” Fallin asked Ferrisch.

“We’ve got a full twenty, ten of them archers, and all of them axe men,” Ferrisch replied. “Each one has seen his share of combat, so we’ll make a fight of any chance we get with the bastards. Our rams are well seasoned, too, and if they aren’t as big as Wargs, they’re more agile and well armored. They’ll stand firm.”

“There are just five of us,” Fallin said, “but we are all competent archers as well as swordsmen, and we are used to long hours in the saddle. Our horses should be able to chase the Wargs down, for they are well able to keep up the current pace of the Wargs far longer than the Wargs can.”

We talked slowly at first, then with more ease as we traded information that we thought might be useful. Ferrisch impressed me as a competent fighter, so I was more assured that the Dwarves would make a better showing than they had in Thorin’s Halls.

Dís asked. “Tauriel, Fallin speaks highly of your tactical skills, so do you have suggestions for pursuit that will make the most of both our forces?”

I bit my tongue, so as not to say that I wanted no part of the Dwarves in our pursuit – then an idea struck me.

“As Fallin said, our horses can hold the Wargs’ pace longer than they. So given that there are five of us, I suggest that we try to overtake the Orcs, but not attack at that point unless the opportunity is clear to free Kili without harm. We should try to pass them to the north. If they see us, I’d hope that would push them south, and farther from Gundebad. If we can pass them unseen, then we can get ahead of them, then turn them back to the west and south. In either case, our goal is to trap them between our forces.”

Ferrisch leaned forward at that. “That is a good plan. If they won’t turn, and Aulë knows that Orcs are stubborn fighters, then delay them for as long as you can. Our rams can’t hold the pace of your horses, but I’ll light a fire under them to keep as close to you as we can.”

“There is at least one bow between them,” I said. “I think only one, but cannot be sure. Do not underestimate their ability with them. Their arrows may not be poisoned, but they are large, so do not pull them out until you have either medicines or hot iron to seal the wound, or the victim bleeds to death. Also, the Wargs do not merely bear their riders – they are formidable warriors in their own right. They will attack your mounts as well as anyone on foot. It is wise to shoot them first, then take the Orcs while they are afoot.”

Ferrisch nodded. “All good advice, Lady. I’ll pass it along to our lads.”

We all rose to escort the Dwarves out of our tent. I think Dís would have liked to linger, to speak to me, but I still could not bear to. She knew it, so didn’t press. At the last moment, though, after Ferrisch had gone out, she turned back, and lightly touched Míriel’s gown as I held the babe in my arms.

“She’s a winsome lass,” Dís said softly, offered me a tentative smile, and went out.

I sighed. If her heart had softened towards her granddaughter before now, mine would not be so hardened against her now.

 

* * *

 

I didn’t think about the Warg looming beside me, or the two Orcs still brawling out in the dark. I shut my eyes and stroked the Warg’s flank gently to find her teat, then I did my best imitation of a suckling pup. I didn’t try to taste, or feel, or see – just take what the Warg offered, both for sustenance and shelter. After a few seconds, I didn’t have to force it – putting anything, no matter how unconventional, in my stomach after five days without food, was lifesaving. The milk was rich and heavy, restoring me with each swallow, and I drank until I thought I’d burst. When I couldn’t hold any more, I crawled between her front legs to huddle against her chest. The April night was cool, and her warmth felt good. I stroked her fur gently, carefully easing out burrs and tangles, hoping my touches calmed her. She gave me a lick or two, nosed me over a bit, then put her head down on her paws with a sigh. We rested together, listening to the two Orcs trying to kill each other. I hoped they succeeded.

As if they’d heard my thoughts, the racket stopped. Krugnash came between the two male Wargs, wiping his jaws, though whether the blood was his or Berqk’s I couldn’t guess. I tensed, for he was scanning for me in the dark. Did Orcs see better than I did in the dark? They must, because he spotted me between the paws of the female Warg and snarled. Maybe he thought the Warg had caught me for supper, because he came right at her. She snarled back, not backing down until he swung the end of her neck chain like a lash, smacking her across the muzzle to drive her away from me. But as she scrambled to her feet, so did I, and I stayed between her legs, my hand on her chest to tell her where I was. When the Orc realized that I wasn’t supper but her replacement pup, he barked with laughter.

“Clever Dwarf,” he congratulated me. “That’s one way to keep Berqk away from you.”

He fastened the Warg’s neck chain to its ringbolt, and bedded down beside his Warg without further harassment. My Warg slowly lay down again, one eye on our harrier, but he left us alone for the moment. I crawled between her paws, curled against her, and closed my eyes.

This had been the most terrifying night of my life. Still, I fell asleep smiling perversely. I hoped Tauriel wouldn’t be angry when I told her she was no longer the only female I’d ever slept with.

 

* * *

 

The pillows around me shifted uneasily, shaking me awake – but pillows weren’t what surrounded me. It was a Warg – oh, Valar, what had I done this time?

Jerking fully awake, I remembered the horrific night that had sent me fleeing to a Warg for protection. I clutched her leg, drawing her to growl softly, but the sound was more cautionary than threatening. I stroked her leg and her chest, telling her I was awake and aware. Her head was up, staring at something – oh, Krugnash. The bastard was coming towards us, a chain in his hand. Behind him limped Berqk. He’d gotten the worst of the fight last night, from jagged gashes across his shoulders and down his arms from Krugnash’s canines, to what looked like a broken or dislocated jaw. One eye was swollen shut, too. Still he had his bow in hand, an arrow already nocked.

Oh, Valar, were they going to kill my Warg? Or me? I scrambled to my feet and stretched my arm around her neck, as if that would protect her.

“Leave her alone,” I said.

Krugnash laughed. “Berqk wants to kill her. But that’d put you on his Warg with him, and I won’t have him spoil you before it’s time. If you want her alive, and yourself unspoiled, hold still.”

Berqk drew back his arrow, and I held still as ordered. Krugnash pushed my chest against the Warg, put a knee hard into my back, and yanked the leather strap from around my neck. The chain replaced it, and he fastened the end of it onto the Warg’s riding harness. When he backed away, however, Berqk didn’t lower his bow until Krugnash shoved him aside. The shorter Orc retreated to his Warg with a curse and a chilling glare.

Krugnash grinned after his retreating mate, then gave me a hard look. “Stay atop the bitch today, or Berqk might risk another chance at you. If you so much as twitch in a way I don’t like, I’ll let him.”

He turned back to his Warg. He pulled out something to eat, bit off a mouthful, then watched Berqk attend to the same thing.

The Warg watched them both, growling softly. In the light of day, she was even more terrifying than she had been last night. Wargs were efficient creatures, but they were not sleek or elegant. Their eyes were slit-pupiled, snakelike, and cold. Their heads were brutal, angular wedges carried low over high shoulders, unmoving when they pursued, which gave them a sinister, focused look. Massive fangs were polished from constant use. Scruffy fur was thin on their legs and heavy on their withers and neck like a mane, and the mottled color accentuated the impression of disease. Only an Orc intent on buggery could have terrified me enough to approach her.

If Wargs were unnerving to look at, their disposition was worse. By nature they were surly, and the Orcs’ abuses had only heightened that. Maybe I’d fooled this one into letting me near, but there was no surety that I’d stay out of her jaws. Still, she was my only protection, and I’d lavish every attention on her and hope that she’d accept me as an ally and not another abuser.

I gave her a name, something that made more of her than the Orcs’ curses of cur, bitch, mongrel. She’d be my _Grimmaz_ , my Fierce One.

I stroked her fur, humming softly deep in my throat, again picking out burs and tangles as I found them. I slipped fingers under and around her harness, looking for weak spots, appalled when I found thorns or sticks that had gotten caught under the straps and had gone unnoticed and untended. I worked them free, and tried to arrange her fur to pad the worst wounds. Then I cleared the debris from her back and flanks. Riding naked on her would be rough enough without anything prickly between my bare rump and her coarse fur. I was surprised that Grimmaz stood quietly, seemingly aware of what I was doing, still even when I had to pull out embedded thorns. Did she know that this small pain would ease bigger ones?

Orcs were scum to treat even a Warg so badly.

Eventually, Grimmaz lay down and nosed me to her belly, so I had breakfast. She, however, seemed to have to do without. I looked over to the Orcs. Krugnash was tossing handfuls of something out of a bag to his beast.

“Oi, _shemator kautar_ , she’s got to eat, too.”

“If she gets hungry enough, _zanbaur_ , maybe she’ll eat you.”

“You’ll be out of your fun, then, won’t you?”

He tossed a handful of whatever it was towards Grimmaz, who stood up warily, eyeing the two males. They eyed the food, too, but I scrabbled to reach it before they did. When one of them growled, Grimmaz lunged at him, snarling and snapping, backing him away. I tossed her my handful, dared to steal most of the male’s food while he was off balance, and scrambled back to Grimmaz with my trophies. I dropped them beside her quickly, not wanting her to think I was keeping it for myself – not that I wanted it. I didn’t know what animal it came from, or even if it was animal. Knowing Orcs, it could easily be Elf or Dwarf or Man. Better to stick with Warg milk.

 She hunkered down on her haunches and snapped at the meat hungrily, so I got out of the way, standing at her left shoulder, the side away from the Orcs. I kept stroking and humming, one eye on the Orcs, the other on her harness. My chain was anchored on the riding handhold atop Grimmaz’s harness. What about the chain that tethered her to Berqk’s Warg? If I could free her, then we both might be able to escape, assuming I could ride her as well as I could a horse or a ram. Yes, her tether chain was anchored to the handhold, too. Given Grimmaz’s thick, coarse ruff around her neck, maybe I could ride her without the handhold by holding onto her fur.

Oh, I wouldn’t be loosening either bond, or cutting the harness off. The loop of Grimmaz’s harness was a double layer of leather strapping, but it felt like a chain was sewn between the layers, which made sense. No harness of mere leather was strong enough to tether a Warg against escape at night. So freeing either Grimmaz or me meant I had to unfasten the tethering chains, or get Grimmaz out of her harness. Were there buckles that I could undo?

I didn’t get to look. Krugnash was atop his Warg. Berqk was pissing. I’d better to the same, so I cut loose quickly and scrambled atop Grimmaz before she stood up. She was as tall as Trellennan at the shoulder, but I didn’t think I’d be teaching her to raise a paw to give me a step up. I had just time to pull out one more bur, then Krugnash ordered Berqk forward. When Grimmaz fell into line, Krugnash followed. We were off.

Riding a Warg wasn’t as hard as I expected. Their spine flexed much more than a horse’s or a ram’s does, which was why the motion was all up and down, up and down, up and down, but after riding a tall horse better suited to a tall Elf, I managed. The handhold helped. Trews would have been better, putting something between my tenderest skin and Grimmaz’s rough fur. But it was better than being tied hand and foot to her harness.

It was time to think. We traveled directly east. The land looked like the steppes I’d known as a contract drover, all grassland without any trees. That cut out trying to dodge away and hiding in the underbrush, if I managed to get myself or Grimmaz unchained. It also cut out any possibility of any pursuit sneaking closer without the Orcs seeing them. Even if Tauriel caught up to me, Berqk had a bow, though Krugnash didn’t, and he’d turn it on me faster than the Elves could reach me.

Unless they caught up to us at night...

I thought about how to get Berqk’s bow away from him, or his arrows. That seemed as unlikely as getting a Warg out of chain-reinforced harness.

“I’d say it was impossible, _bràthair_.”

Fili again? Was I dreaming all of this, then? Maybe I was out of my head with fever somewhere, and only thought I crossed the northern steppe across lost Arnor.

No; when I dreamed, I never felt physical discomfort. This was real, then, because it hurt. I might have gotten all the burs out of Grimmaz’s fur, but the skin of my inner thighs was still scraped raw with every stride. My arrow wound ached, too; I was cold; and I was thirsty as the miles went by. The Orcs had water bottles, and even ate without stopping as the sun rose to noon. Staying on the move meant I went without.

“Let it go, Kili. Let it all go, and I’ll take care of you the way I used to.”

“Shut up, Fili. You’re dead, I’m not, and the only help you can give me is to ask the Valars to toss me a bone.”

“I’ve always taken care of you, Kil. I want to now. Don’t make me watch this.”

“I’ll have to take care of myself now, won’t I, _doh kro_? Tauriel will figure out something on her side, and I will on mine, and we’ll get me out of this.”

“You’re riding a mongrel Warg starkers. The only food you’ve got is coming out of a Warg’s teat. Not a knife or a blade around, and you’ve got a chain around your neck. Not much to go on.”

“Then leave me to it, why don’t you? This is hard enough without you to remind me of what a fucking spot I’m in. I’m going to make a go of whatever I can until Tauriel can catch up to me.”

“What if she’s not back there, Kil?”

“She’s back there! Now go away!”

He went. Now all I had to do was stare at miles and miles and miles of empty steppe, the back end of a Warg, and the bow tied to his harness. All three kept me a prisoner as much as the chain around my neck.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Kili's still dealing with the Orcs, Dis makes an appearance, and Tauriel has a setback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> senda ilma = restful starlight  
> quel fara = good hunting  
> aaye = hail (about as close to “hey, there” or “hi” as Quenya gets)

I slowed when I spotted the dark stain amid the stubble ahead of us, below the cloud of carrion crows we’d seen since early morn. It was halfway to noon, and though the sky was full of puffy clouds, the intermittent sunlight was more than bright enough to reveal the color of blood – red blood, not black. Oh, Valar, Valar –

“Bastards,” Drennal spat. She closed her eyes and looked away from the heap of dead Warg pups, swallowing hard. There were eleven of them, and they’d all had their throats slit. Warg pups looked no less deadly than the mature ones, but the slaughter of even a predator’s young was nothing but wanton destruction for destruction’s sake. Giriel and Rhiannel dismounted, moving around the bloody remains to the raucous annoyance of the crows and hawks, then radiated out from there, searching for sign of Kili.

“They staked the three Wargs here, here, and here,” Rhiannel said, pointing. “The female there, of course, and the two males over there.”

“There was a fight,” Giriel said abruptly. “The two Orcs? All the blood I see is black.”

“Is there any sign of Kili?” I asked, hoping, but not surprised when both Giriel and Rhiannel shook their heads.

“How long ago do you think this happened?”

Giriel and Rhiannel went over the signs again, talking softly, but quickly came to their conclusion. “The pups, perhaps seven or eight hours ago. The Orc blood, likely the same. But they didn’t move on until dawn, given the Orc scat. So they’re perhaps four or five hours ahead of us.”

I looked across the flat expanse, straining my eyes as if that would help me see Kili ahead of us. I shook my head.

“What is it, Tauriel?” Fallin asked.

“There is a flaw in our plan.”

“What?”

“The steppe is empty. Antelope and goats, yes. But our horses don’t look like either. Nor are there trees, washes, anything that will screen us from the Orcs when we catch up.”

“Which means if they see us, and they have a bow, then they can shoot Kili before we can reach them,” Giriel said.

“Yes.”

“So the only cover we will have is the night,” Rhiannel concluded.

“That’s true.” Fallin exhaled, looking east. Nothing and no one moved across the empty land. “Suggestions?”

“One of us can ride ahead, cautiously,” I said. “If any sign of the Orcs appears, then we hold back until nightfall, then we move forward. We follow their trail, but move north to pass them in the night. Perhaps we can spot them, and fall upon them then before they know we are upon them, aiming first to eliminate the bowman, then to free Kili.”

“And if not, at least we will be ahead of them, and perhaps we can turn them from Gundebad,” Drennal said with hope.

“I’ll take the point first,” Giriel offered, and sprinted ahead. When the rest of us followed only a little slower, I asked the Valar to help Drennal’s hope bear fruit.

 

* * *

 

The Orcs stopped at the sun’s highest point, but only to piss. I took the chance to do the same, but didn’t take long at it, not with Berqk leering at me. While I stood there, he made sure I saw all the bits of him that I did not want to see from a distance, much less as close as he’d come last night. I wouldn’t turn my back on the bastard, so I distracted myself by wondering whether I could convince Grimmaz to remove Berqk’s bits for him, so managed to finish the deed.

I’d hoped the Orcs would pause at least a few moments more to eat, or to let their Wargs eat, but no such luck. They remounted to eat the same foul rags they’d tossed out to their Wargs earlier, and didn’t give me a chance to get anything from Grimmaz. Of course, the Wargs went hungry, too. We continued on across the steppe for the rest of the afternoon. I was dismayed at how fast the Wargs could run for such a long time. If they kept this up for several days, Tauriel and the rest of the Orc Spawn would never catch up to me.

By evening, I was past parched. When Berqk’s Warg slowed, my tongue felt twice its normal size, I was dizzy, and my head pounded like an anvil under a hammer. The Wargs were panting, but I thought more because of weariness than thirst. I stayed atop Grimmaz as Berqk pounded a tether stake into the ground, then unfastened Grimmaz’ tether chain from his Warg and refastened it to the stake. Krugnash and he had a snarling conversation, too low and garbled for me to make out, but Berqk rode off into the dusk with a surly curse. Grimmaz lay on her side to pant, so I risked crawling down. She nosed me, making sure she knew who I was, then rolled over enough for me to eat. I didn’t hesitate this time, as thirsty as I was. I suckled greedily, not knowing how long I had before Krugnash took it into his head to stop me. He stayed on his feet, though, looking back to the west. Looking for my mates, I hoped. If they’d come upon him now, without Berqk to support him and Grimmaz not tethered to anything but the earth, they could get me away.

Unfortunately, rescue didn’t arrive. Then again, Krugnash was too focused on keeping watch to bother me. I drank my fill, and then crawled between Grimmaz’s front paws to stroke her fur. She seemed to like that, making a noise deep in her throat that was almost like a cat’s purr. Wargs were strange – part wolf, part hunting cat, part nightmare, but Grimmaz looked kindly on me for the moment, so her strangeness didn’t matter.

An hour later, Berqk was back. He’d been hunting, for a pair of steppe antelope hung over his Warg. Grimmaz looked up, and she tensed. I did, too. Would the Orcs feed her at last?

The biggest carcass went to Krugnash’s Warg. The second was much smaller, and Berqk threw it at Grimmaz with a distinct sneer. The herds were full at this time of year as all the antelope prepared to drop their kids, so full that even a poor hunter would trip over more antelope than he could shoot. So Berqk had brought back a smaller carcass for spite. He tossed it right under Grimmaz’s nose, too, hoping I’d get in the way of her fangs when she went for the meat. But I rolled from between her paws and was well out of the way when she snapped up the carcass.

Krugnash laid into the shorter Orc, cuffing and cursing. “Next time, bring a proper carcass back for the bitch, or I’ll throw you to her to make up the short!”

“I wanted to keep her weak!” Berqk protested. I snorted. Likely he liked the chance to make her suffer. “She can’t think about fighting when she’s hungry!”

“She can’t think about running when she’s hungry, _nar thos_ , which is what she has to do until we are home! Or do you want the Elves to catch up to us?”

My heart thumped. Had they seen pursuit? Were the Orc Spawn behind us?

“There’s no one back there, Krugnash. Even Elvish horses couldn’t catch us, as fast as we’ve traveled.”

“That’s why we’ll keep traveling that fast, and that means the bitch gets full rations. I promise you, if you bring back something that scrawny tomorrow, you’ll follow the goat down her throat!”

“If you don’t like what I bring back, then you hunt for better!”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? The Dwarf stays unspoiled!”

“No one’s going to care if he’s been used. That’s what’ll happen to him when we reach the Dragon’s Mount. Let him have a taste of what’s coming to him!”

“And maybe he’ll give you a taste of what’s coming to you. If you can get him away from the bitch.”

This went on for a while, until even I got bored with the sniping, and curled up with Grimmaz to sleep. The only thing I learned from the exchange was that I should never, ever stray from Grimmaz’s side farther than she could reach with her teeth.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t understand it,” Fallin admitted when we stopped far after dark. We didn’t bother to put up our tent, for we were tired and the weather, while cool, was clear, and being under the starlight would refresh us quickly. “I didn’t think Wargs could hold the pace they are for so long.”

“They know we’re behind them,” Giriel sighed, leaning back against the packhorse’s rig to sip her water. Beyond us, Drennal and Rhiannel watched the horses as they cropped the steppe grasses hungrily.

“Knowing is one thing,” Fallin countered. “Driving their beasts is another.”

“They drive them with less care than we urge our horses,” I said, cuddling Míriel. “We can only hope they wear the Wargs down faster than we do our horses.”

Giriel swallowed her lembas. “They’ll have to hunt to feed the Wargs. That takes time. Our horses need only grass and water. We have lembas and water enough for a while, though soon we will need to find more water for ourselves as well as the horses.”

“There were no rivers or streams on Kili’s map,” Fallin noted. “Keep an eye out for the rare tree or thicker plants, as they will be near water.”

I wondered whether Kili was being fed, but left that fear unsaid, along with all the other ones that burdened me.

Rhiannel came to join us. “I’ve taken all the tack off Lissin for you, Giriel, and wrapped his bit against rattling.”

Every night, one of us rode forward to try to find the Orcs, if only to assess Kili’s condition and see how hard it would be to free him. So far, we had not found them. But despite that failure, Giriel climbed to her feet without hesitation. “Then I’m off to scout. _Senda ilma_ , Orc Spawn.”

“ _Quel fara_ ,” we wished her. We touched hands as we’d come to do, and Giriel walked off into the dark still munching her last bit of lembas bread.

I appreciated her farewell, but Míriel hiccupped fretfully. None of us would rest well in the starlight until we had Kili back with us.

 

* * *

 

The days ground into numbing sameness. Wake up just at dawn, hurry to feed, back on Grimmaz, race across the steppe at a brutal pace until full dark, hurry to feed again, and finally crawl between Grimmaz’s protective paws, only to do it all again in a scant few hours. I didn’t know how the Wargs held such a speed for so long. All that made it possible were the vast spring herds of sheep and antelope massed around us. It was easy for either Orc to fall away long enough for his Warg to seize an unwary creature, bolt it down, then rejoin the Orc who guarded me. Grimmaz, of course, wasn’t loosed to hunt for herself. But the Orcs saw to her well enough, bringing back carcasses for her to eat.

I, on the other hand, had to make do with Grimmaz’s milk, supplemented only with whatever I could scrabble from the ground during the rare times I touched it – the rare egg, or rarer green shoot. The Orcs jibed me for being the son of a bitch with eating habits to match, but considering what they ate, I decided I had better fare as well as family. Better an adopted, milk-drinking son of a Warg than a filthy, cruel, sadistic, foul-tempered, cannibalistic, hive-bred drone – oh and oh, it was much too easy to find words that delved into the atrocity that was an Orc, if impossible to list them all.

I’d hoped that the killing pace and the Orc’s need to stand sentry during our short rests at night would make them more exhausted than I. But the farther we went east, the less they bothered about standing guard. They relied on the Wargs to alert them to anything passing near, which was rare. Wargs have a distinctive, pungent smell that warned off prey animals, but the stench of Orc was even more pervasive. I hadn’t been teasing when I’d told the Orc Spawn how badly they reeked.

Dwarves have a distinctive smell, too. Right now, mine had nothing of the Eastern spices that had enticed Tauriel. It started with Warg, added dirt, sweat, and blood, and got worse from there.

The only advantage of the Orcs moving so fast during the day was that they didn’t have a lot of time to harass me. That didn’t mean they never did – Krugnash kept Berqk from buggering me or inflicting serious wounds, but he enjoyed Berqk’s bullying. The shorter Orc began with goading his Warg to sudden bursts of speed that painfully jerked the chain around Grimmaz’s neck, sometimes making her stumble, which hurt me, too, when I fought to stay astride. The times I fell off, Berqk would run Grimmaz a while, dragging me behind her. When that tired his Warg so much that he couldn’t hold Krugnash’s pace, he settled on riding beside me, flicking a leather strap that left welts on me as often as Grimmaz. He stopped that when Grimmaz suddenly swerved one day, snapped at him, then raked her long front claws down his Warg’s flank just behind his riding harness. His Warg screamed, and refused to venture near us again.

Krugnash laughed when Berqk howled about it, and sent his Warg snapping at the other male Warg’s hindquarters to move him along.

At night, the Orcs mostly left me alone, but only because they didn’t want to face Grimmaz. She’d gotten much more aggressive with the two males, likely because of the improved rations, and maybe because she was protective of me. It was rare that the Orcs could force the males to gang up on her anymore, so the Orcs were forced to make do with verbal assaults rather than physical ones. They stopped talking to me directly, and instead discussed me and what I was in for, as if they were bringing an animal to the charnel house. I stopped talking, too, not that I had anything to say to either of them, and retreated to Grimmaz. During the day, I rode her quietly, stroking her shoulder to let her know I was with her. At night, after I ate, I checked her carefully for burs and thorns, teasing them out of her coat, then bedded down between her forelegs, stroking and humming softly, to sleep as best I could.

When I couldn’t sleep, I thought about Tauriel and Míriel. Yet after so many days apart, days past counting, both were fading, little more than faint memories of dreams despite my desperate attempts to recall them. The night I couldn’t conjure my babe’s face upset me beyond words. The Orcs had reduced me to a food animal, first by taking my freedom; then my clothes; then all regard as a thinking, speaking, feeling being; then the memory of my life before the steppe; and now the faces of those who loved me. I couldn’t remember my daughter’s face! I barely remembered Tauriel’s. All I knew was the up and down, up and down, up and down of a Warg’s gait, the stench of Orcs, and the fear of a chained animal constantly under the eye of predators.

On marched the days, and on the Wargs ran. Losing the memory of Míriel’s face so demoralized me that for several days I stopped thinking of anything, and merely endured. The constant lack of water exhausted me. The sun burned my bare skin until it was red and peeling. Staying aback Grimmaz protected me, but my body ached from the unending hours of restricted movement. The rare times I was off her back, I walked in a stooped crouch. Yet every time my neck chain rattled, I thought about how much, much worse it would be when the Orcs reached Gundebad and Erebor beyond it.

Nothing changed for days and days, until one night, after Berqk set Grimmaz’s tether stake. I waited for him to retreat, then warily slid off her back, desperate to put something in my stomach and ease my thirst. Just before my feet touched the ground, though, a strap went around my neck, jerking tight as Krugnash hauled me off the ground. He moved swiftly to carry me away from the lunging Grimmaz, finally dropping me when she reached the end of her tether. He dragged me some ten or twenty feet on, then used a tether stake to beat me until my ribs felt broken. If that wasn’t enough, he doubled me up with a few well-placed kicks. When I couldn’t move, couldn’t whimper, he drove the tether stake into the ground, tied my neck strap to it, and stalked off. Everything went grey, or maybe that was the deepening night.

Oh, Valar, my ribs were broken, and I tasted blood. I didn’t even know why he’d done it. I didn’t know.

“Not good, _bràthair_ ,” Fili said.

He hadn’t appeared for days. Maybe weeks. Maybe because there was so little of me to talk to. I lay there, unmoving.

“Kili, talk to me.”

I couldn’t. I couldn’t move, much less talk to a ghost.

“Kili, I think your ribs are broken. You taste blood, too. Probably a punctured lung.”

I wasn’t coughing, and while it hurt to breathe, I didn’t feel the sharp jab of a broken rib poking my lung. One of Krugnash’s punches had hit my cheekbone, so more likely I’d only cut the inside of my mouth.

“Kili, let me take care of you. Let go, Kil. Please.”

I didn’t answer, and Fili faded back into the dark.

Enough time passed that I breathed a little easier, but Grimmaz still whined, pulling at her tether as she tried to reach me. I rolled over carefully, got to my knees, and tried to crawl to her. But the strap tethered to the stake was short, only a few feet long. I inched towards the stake, taking long moments to reach it, and reached for the knot, hoping to untie it so I could at least reach the relative safety of Grimmaz’s paws –

Fingers were already on the strap, pulling it taut so that a knife could slice it through. An Elvish knife. Tauriel’s Elvish knife.

Was I hallucinating? First Fili, now Tauriel?

This was no hallucination. She touched me, and I felt it. Her fingers pressed against my lips, urging me silent. I looked up into her emerald eyes, her beautiful emerald eyes, and everything I had forgotten about her came flooding back. Our home, our bairn, our love – it was all inside me again, all waiting. All she had to do was cut the strap, and the waiting would be over. The Orcs would be behind us, and I would see my daughter again –

Tauriel cut the strap. As she helped me gain my feet, Krugnash and Berqk drove their Wargs at Grimmaz, forcing her back. The chain around my neck tore me out of Tauriel’s arms and dragged me behind Grimmaz, choking and gasping. Rough hands hauled me off the ground, threw me across Krugnash’s Warg, and ran us off into the night. Orcish laughter echoed over the steppe.

Now I knew why Krugnash had beaten me. He’d done it first to goad Tauriel from merely watching from the dark, and second to tease me with the smell, taste and feel of salvation at hand before snatching it away.

I had so little moisture in my body that when I cried, no tears fell.

 

* * *

 

Only thought of Míriel waiting with Drennal forced me to scramble atop Jalsin and run away from the Orcs, but I needn’t have bothered. Neither of the two Gundebad Orcs retaliated for my attempt to free Kili other than to flee into the night. That was wound enough – to have my _a’maelamin_ in my hands, only to have him dragged away. No arrow or knife could have hurt me more. I rode back to the rest of the Orc Spawn in silence, listening hard for followers, but there were none. That was a further mockery – the Orcs were so sure of themselves that they hadn’t deigned to pursue me.

I saw Rhiannel’s tall, slender body against the stars, and so slid off Jalsin’s back to walk the last few yards.

“ _Aaye_ , Tauriel,” Rhiannel whispered as I drew near. He knew instantly that something was amiss. “What happened? You found them? Did you see Kili?”

“I had Kili in my hands,” I whispered. “I had him. But he’d been chained to one of the Wargs, and the Orcs were watching. They drove off the Warg and dragged Kili away. Oh, Valar, Rhiannel! I had him for just a moment!”

I was ashamed that my knees buckled, and I dropped to the ground, my hands over my mouth to keep my sobs silent. Rhiannel’s stooped beside me, put his arm around me, and drew me up. “Come, _mellon nin_. Don’t despair. Tell Fallin everything, just as you would report on any scouting run, and we will make something good of it.”

I let him draw me up, and take Jalsin’s reins as he looked for Fallin in the dark. Fallin saw us coming, and hastened to join us.

“What happened?” Fallin asked. “Are you hurt, Tauriel? Were you attacked?”

“She found the Orcs, and tried to free Kili. But it was a ruse, and the Orcs ran off with him,” Rhiannel explained lowly. Drennal and Giriel had come up in time to hear Rhiannel’s explanation. Giriel’s curse was as pungent as Drennal’s moan was horrified. I told them how I had heard the Wargs growling, and had left Jalsin well behind me as I crawled as close as I dared to see what there was to see. I saw Krugnash easily holding Kili up by a strap around his neck, as if Kili’s frantic struggles were of no consequence. When the Orc beat Kili with the tether stake, it was all I could do not to scream. The way my _a’maelamin_ lay curled in a knot, unable to move, so obviously in pain, was too much to resist. So when the Orc went back to his Warg, when the other was occupied with eating, I crawled close enough to cut Kili’s tether and get him in my arms. He had looked into my eyes with such longing –

And then he was gone.

Giriel excused herself to curse quietly with the horses, and Drennal buried her face in Míriel’s gown. Even Rhiannel, normally the quietest and most thoughtful of us, was muttering under his breath. With all of us so distraught it was no surprise when our babe wailed. Drennal hushed her softly, and I took her to suckle, hoping that would ease her, but she would take my breast only for a few swallows. She pushed away with a hiccup, still unhappy, but quieter.

“How far ahead of us are they?” Fallin asked.

The question helped me focus on something other than crying, which I have never found useful to solve anything, though I admit it was occasionally helpful to vent frustration and worry. But I was tired of venting frustration and worry. I answered Fallin’s question and hoped it would help us find something to do other than vent.

“Less than two hours before they bolted.”

“So we are closing the gap between us. Could you have used your bow?”

I shook my head. “The starlight isn’t strong enough for me to target the Orcs without risk to Kili.”

Fallin considered. “That narrows our choices for an attack. We can’t take him at night because we can’t use our bows, which are one of our biggest advantages. We need to talk to the Dwarves.”

 

* * *

 

Krugnash drove us only a few hours into the night after Tauriel’s failed attempt to free me. Berqk staked the Wargs, and Krugnash dumped me off his Warg beside Grimmaz. I crawled to her and she curled around me, whining, pushing me to eat, but I had little strength to do so. Still, I forced myself to drink as much as I would hold, then stayed at Grimmaz’s flank, unable to move. Grimmaz knew I was hurt, because she licked me, trying to rouse me. I couldn’t find the strength to stroke her as I usually did. I don’t know whether I passed out or fell asleep, but when I was next aware, the sun was close to rising. I found Grimmaz’s teat and drank as much as I could.

“Do you see the hawks that fly over the steppe, _shakutarbik_?”

I didn’t look at Berqk, but continued to drink.

“The she-Elf was tight when I started, but she was a lot looser when I finished reaming her. Soft belly, soft throat, soft tits. Soft, moaning voice when she begged for her life. I liked it when she begged. Such a tasty morsel. Did you know she has red hair all over? That’s about all of her that’s left. The hawks are disappointed. They like the soft bits, too.”

Though I was no longer hungry, I kept eating, because I wouldn’t let him think I’d heard him. He hadn’t touched Tauriel. He hadn’t. She was behind me, and she’d try to free me again. I would help her this time. I wouldn’t let despair consume me again.

Berqk gave up when he got no reaction out of me, but he and Krugnash both kept up a constant litany of perversions they’d visited on my _amrâlimê_. That wasn’t smart, because they came up with so many of them that they couldn’t possibly have done them all in a lifetime. Rather than cow me, they angered me so much that I looked past my exhaustion, pain, and despair to find something that would help me fight back.

That something was revenge.

I wanted revenge for the weeks of my life during which these two bastards had made me into an animal, for the memories of my wife and bairn they’d obscured with their pestilence. They weren’t going to drag me to Erebor, Gundebad, or anywhere else for much longer. I didn’t know how or when, but with every insult to Tauriel, I grew surer and surer of that.

I started to think like a Dwarf again, not an animal. The same things that had been true however many weeks ago were still true – I had to get Berqk’s bow away from him, or his arrows. I had to figure out how to get Grimmaz out of her harness. I had to find some way to help the Orc Spawn catch up to me at night. I ignored the insults and lewd references to Tauriel. I forced as much of Grimmaz’s milk down my throat as I could, and I conserved as much strength as I could. And I started to experiment with subtly guiding Grimmaz as we ran, edging her right or left, or slower or faster. I had to be careful with this, as Krugnash usually rode behind me. For an Orc, he was smart, and I didn’t want him to notice that the rapport between Grimmaz and me had grown so much that she listened to me.

As a few more days passed, we swerved away from the path of the spring herds, and game grew scarcer. The Orcs still had their dried rations, but they weren’t enough for the Wargs. More importantly, the lack of game meant a lack of liquid. Water on the steppes was rare, and without that to drink, predators had to rely on the blood of their prey to sustain them. The Wargs soon grew as thirsty as I was, and Grimmaz’s milk started to dry up. The Orcs weren’t in much better straits, not that I cared.

 

* * *

 

We kept close on the Orc’s trail for several days, not approaching any closer other than to be sure of where they were. Drennal had volunteered to be the one to backtrack to the Dwarves, because she wanted the rest of us, all strong fighters, to remain close to Kili in case we needed to attack without the Dwarves. She promised to keep her words civil to the Dwarves, despite her grudge, and to ride swiftly. I cannot speak about the first, but I can vouch for the second, for in three days she appeared with Dís and her folk in tow. They were all dusty and exhausted, having spent almost every second from Drennal’s arrival since traveling as fast as their animals could bear them. We left Giriel to watch our way east while the rest of us joined the Dwarves.

We laid our plans swiftly, then the Dwarves set about taking their much-needed rest. The Orc Spawn settled among the sleepers, watching as we took the starlight. As tired as they were, however, I was not surprised when Dís came to stand beside me in the dark.

“I’m told that standing in the starlight refreshes Elves as sleep does other folk,” Dís began quietly.

“It does,” I replied, but gently, as I put Míriel on my shoulder.

“What happens when the stars are overcast?”

Despite my worry, I smiled. That was always one of the first questions any Elf received from other folk. “The clouds obscure sight of the stars, but we still feel their presence. We even feel them during the day, if not nearly so strongly. It is enough to restore us.”

Dís hummed understanding, but didn’t know what to say from there. Dwarves were not, as Kili had often told me, folk of subtlety in their speech.

“I had never thought to envy other folk for their need to sleep. But the chance to forget troubles for a few hours, to dream of other things, that I have envied several times during these past weeks.”

“And I’m sorry to have caused so many of yours, lass.” Dís stared at the ground. “I have watched you as I can these past days, and I was wrong to think you didn’t love my son. I dismissed what both of you told me, as well as what I saw, and it’s cost all of us, Kili most of all. I want to make amends. I hope you can let me.”

It surprised me to hear Dís speak thus. Then I remembered how angry Kili had been about how King Thranduil had answered threats to the Woodland Realm by withdrawing to his limestone cavern. When I had explained, he hadn’t liked the king any more, but he’d sympathized with the tragedies the king had borne. His mother had made the same effort to understand something unknown, and for Kili’s sake, I would recognize that.

“When Kili is safe among us again, we will start anew. Like you, I have no family other than Kili and Míriel. We are a small clan, then, and it would be a waste for us to call feud, yes? Better that we unite and find others to feud with.”

Dís gave me a considering look, but saw enough of my smile to understand my joke. She grinned, then sobered. “Let’s start with the Orcs who have Kili.”

“That is no mere feud, Dís. That is blood feud.”

“Aye, I’m with you. May I offer you a tactical word?”

“Of course.”

“We Dwarves have a saying: ‘Don’t fight a war on two fronts.’ Don’t ride into battle tomorrow with Míriel, Tauriel. Please, let me see to her until the fighting’s done, so she stays safe, and you can concentrate on Kili. Would you let me do that?”

I had considered what to do with Míriel come the dawn, but hadn’t seen any choice but to take her with me, risky though that was. I wasn’t willing to keep any of the Orc Spawn out of a fight where they would be so desperately needed. But with Dís’s folk among us, all of them seasoned warriors led by a cagey general, it would be much safer for Míriel to stay with her grandmother.

“I warn you,” I replied, but lightly. “But an hour’s time with this babe will make you her prisoner forever.”

Dís looked away, swallowing. “I already am, lass.”

How did my eyes come to sting so quickly? Yes, perhaps Dís and I would come to better terms, after all.

“It is a generous offer, and wise counsel. Once she has suckled and has a clean gown, I will bring her to you. Keep her safe for me.”

“And for Kili.”

“And for Kili.”

Dís put a hand on my arm, then on Míriel’s head, and went to find her rest. I stood under the stars with my babe to find mine, but my heart was already a little lighter.

 

* * *

 

It’d been three days since the Wargs had caught any prey. If Wargs thought about anything other than prey, then they spent the afternoon as I did, consumed with thoughts of water. We’d followed Krugnash’s usual habit of racing across the steppe without stop since first light this morning, and by full dark I was once again past parched, lightheaded, headachy, dizzy. I tried to put that aside when Berqk’s Warg nosed back and forth as if searching. Was this a chance for... something?

The Warg sped up, running forward in a straight line, their heads down and unmoving as if they targeted prey. Grimmaz suddenly was much more focused, too, and sped up. Krugnash’s Warg raced even with Grimmaz. Food? Water?

It was a small pool. Grimmaz smelled the water and lunged forward, shouldering Berqk’s Warg out of the way with a snarl, and buried her nose in the water, sucking it down greedily, even as she angled away from the male Warg, presenting only her formidable fangs for him to target. Atop the male, Berqk cursed him and tried to drive him at Grimmaz, but without Krugnash’s male to support him, he didn’t have the bulk to shove Grimmaz aside.

When Grimmaz had had enough, she moved past Berqk, giving me a good, close look at his riding harness and the rig that held Berqk’s bow and quiver. Yes, the quiver held six arrows. They were not tied in place, so they were easy to get to when Berqk wanted to shoot at something. That made them easier for me to get than the whole quiver and the bow, both of which were strapped firmly to the harness.

How to do that? I needed a diversion, or something that put Grimmaz and Berqk’s Warg so close together that I could grab the arrows, break them, and let the pieces scatter.

The only thing that would bring two Wargs that close together, short of mating, was a fight. Given that I was chained to one of the fighters, that didn’t bode well.

I waited until Krugnash’s Warg had drunk enough, then both of the Orcs, before I edged closer to the water. I was desperate for liquid, but when Grimmaz was too far away for me to reach the water, I pulled on the chain, not hard, and whimpered like a pup. She took a few steps towards me, so I pulled again, drawing her closer, until I could reach the water. I sucked it down regardless of the silt, so thirsty was I –

Berqk’s boot caught me in the ribs, emptying me of breath in a gust. “Away from the water, _kurvanog shakutarbik_!”

Oh, Valar, that hurt! I didn’t suppress a cry, hoping Grimmaz would think her pup was in danger. I didn’t have to pretend to scrabble away from Berqk, because I couldn’t have gotten to my feet in that moment for anything. But there was nothing wrong with my voice.

“ _Leibz maamr as bi an ha'ak!_ ” I hissed.

Berqk didn’t know _Khazuduhl_ , but he didn’t have to know what the words meant to know I cursed him. He took my bait, coming at me with a guttural squawk, but he’d forgotten Grimmaz. All Berqk had to do was raise his hand, and Grimmaz snarled and lunged at him. The Orc smacked her nose with a roundhouse fist and dodged behind his Warg, which was just what I wanted. I scrabbled to my feet and held onto my chain to protect my neck as I was dragged into the fight. If I could stay out of the path of the fangs, maybe I could get a hand on Berqk’s arrows –

Oh and oh, I’d forgotten about the eight flying feet, all armored with heavy claws, that tried to grind me into the stubble. One caught me a solid blow on the hip, and down I went, wrapping my arms around my head. Berqk and Krugnash were both shouting and cursing, and then the third Warg waded in, which didn’t help me get out of the way. In desperation, I caught the harness strap of one of the males and held on, trying to get myself astride. I grabbed for the handhold, overshot when the heaving bodies threw me forward, and ended up with my hand scrabbling for purchase on Berqk’s quiver.

So the Valar had finally heard me, after all.

I grabbed at the arrows as if I tried to pull myself out of the fray. When they were all in my hand, I slid back under the Warg, arrows in hand. I jabbed one of the males with the barbed ends. When he understandably snapped at me, I put the shafts crosswise in his teeth and yanked my hand away when he snapped his jaws shut.

The arrows shattered in a satisfying crunch.

I rolled into a ball, staying low as the Wargs snarled and lunged around me, until Grimmaz drove the males far enough away that she stood over me. Her jaws gaped, closed around me, but didn’t bite down. She backed away with me in her mouth, growling.

“You _nar thos_!” Krugnash swung at Berqk furiously, clouting the smaller Orc on the ear. “You’ve got no more brains than you have balls! I told you you’ll have your turn at the Dwarf when everyone else does, but you can’t wait, can you?”

“He started it! He cursed me!”

“Even a Dwarf needs water if he’s going to last until we get to the Dragon’s Mount! You go near him again, and I’ll leave you for the Elves and take him the rest of the way myself!”

Berqk took his Warg and retreated into the dimming light. Krugnash turned away to chain Grimmaz’s leash into the holding ring. Maybe I’d be left alone now, and I could finally put something in my stomach besides silty water. That might dim the pain of the blows the Wargs had given me during their fight, too.

“I’ll make sure you won’t cause any more trouble, either,” Krugnash rumbled. My leash was in his hand, no longer attached to Grimmaz’s harness. He had a leather strap in his other hand, and a piece of broken arrow. I was about to get another beating.

“I just wanted the water!” I protested as he threw down the broken shaft and dragged me away from Grimmaz.

“You should have asked for it first, _zanbaur_ ,” he growled as he held down the chain with his boot and raised the strap.

He whipped me methodically, until every other pain in my body faded in the fire of my torn back. By the time he was done, it hurt to breathe, it hurt not to breathe, it hurt to even think about breathing.

I fought not to pass out when he dragged me back to tether me to Grimmaz. I don’t know what possessed me to speak.

“You missed a spot, _undur kurv_.”

The strap landed again, making me gasp. “Not there, _ha’ak_. You already hit me there. To the right. You can’t do anything right, do you know that?”

The strap landed to the right. “Better? Or do you want me to keep trying?”

“Go ahead.”

He laughed. “Tempting. But I’d rather watch you die on the Dragon’s Mount in front of your people.”

“So would they, _ha’ak_. I told you, halfbloods can’t rule. Neither can exiles. I’m both. The Dwarves of Erebor won’t care what you do to me. They’d be happy to make a pact with you so they can take part.”

Krugnash growled.

Ever the reckless Dwarf, I pushed for all the confusion I could cause. “Why else would a Dwarf ally with _kurvanog lulgijakone,_ Krugnash? Only those bastards decided they wanted the bounty the Dwarves offered, and they were about to deliver me when you crashed in. Save yourself the trip to Erebor. Make your own deal. At least you’ll get something out of it. Bet you won’t get a thing for delivering me to Erebor.”

Krugnash swore in fury, lashed me one last time, and disappeared into the dark. Grimmaz crawled close, whimpering. She licked the blood from my back, which hurt so much that when she tried to curl around me, I greyed out.

I hoped Berqk didn’t have another quiver of arrows hidden somewhere. I didn’t have skin left to try to steal them.

 


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Welcome to the revised story.
> 
> My reader anddante gently and kindly noted that I hadn't made use of the foreshadowing I'd carefully set up in previous chapters. You can read her thoughtful observations in the comments and my responses to see why I made the changes I did. So, before you read this chapter, let me explain the logistics...
> 
> I just reposted Chapters 39 and 40, which expand upon what used to be Chapter 39, so I respectfully suggest that you go back and reread those before you read on here. This chapter, Chapter 41, is the revision of what used to be Chapter 40.
> 
> See, Sir Peter Jackson isn't the only person who does expanded and extra scenes. It happens to all of us sooner or later :-).
> 
> Thank you for your patience with the changes. This is the story the way I originally meant to tell it. Clearly, I hadn't had enough chocolate when I wrote the shorter version!

_Rhiannel let the sound of snarling Wargs guide him closer. If it were a fight, he hoped it boded well for Kili. He dropped to the grass, for there were no trees or shorter plants to hide his height. There was only a faint crescent moon, but after Tauriel’s experience he wouldn’t risk letting even that pale light give his presence away. Yes, some twenty-five yards away, three Wargs tore at each other. The two Orcs yanked uselessly on neck chains and harness to try to separate them, but even Gundebad Orcs were no match for the power behind a Warg intent on its enemies. Where was Kili in all this? Oh, Valar, he was underneath the Wargs, trying to keep from being kicked or bitten. There! The Dwarf wrestled himself atop a Warg, scrabbling for a handhold, but the arrows he grabbed slipped out of their quiver, and Kili fell back underneath the Wargs._

_When the arrows snapped into splinters, Rhiannel wondered if that had been Kili’s goal all along._

_When Krugnash flogged Kili nearly senseless, he knew the Orc had asked himself the same question and hadn’t liked the answer._

_When Kili rallied enough to claim that the Orc Spawn had tried to sell him to his mother, he stifled a laugh, impressed with his friend’s ability to make the most outrageous story sound utterly believable._

_When the female Warg crawled to Kili and whimpered over him, then licked his wounds and tried to curl around him, Rhiannel decided the world was far more surreal than he’d imagined._

_He slipped away in the dark, found his horse, and sprinted back to his friends._

 

* * *

 

“So the Orcs have no arrows for their bow,” Giriel grinned widely. “Good for Kili!”

Rhiannel had reached us before midnight. When Fallin, Giriel, and Drennal had heard Rhiannel’s horse draw close, they had gathered Dís and Ferrisch, and all of us gathered to hear what he had to say.

“He paid for it heavily,” Rhiannel cautioned us before we made too much of his revelation. My throat closed at his description of Krugnash’s retaliation, and even the recitation of Kili’s attempt to disconcert the Orc with a wild tale of being a renegade about to be sold for bounty to his own folk didn’t reassure me. Míriel whimpered, picking up on my distress, so I held her close on my shoulder, whispering reassurances that my heart needed as much as hers.

“But that’s not the oddest thing of the night,” Rhiannel said, accepting a square of lembas bread from Giriel.

“There’s more?” Giriel asked, eyes wide. “Even Kili couldn’t add to what you’ve told us so far, Rhiannel!”

“No, he couldn’t,” Rhiannel agreed. “But a Warg could. If I had not seen it, I would not have ever given it credence. But the female Warg went to Kili after Krugnash was done, and tried to shelter him.”

“She what?” I gasped.

Rhiannel nodded. “She licked his wounds, and curled around him. Somehow, she’s become his protector, as well as she’s able. The Orc had to chain her away from Kili before he flogged him. So when we engage the Orcs, we must not target her. Kili remains chained to her, anyway, so hurting her will trap him, injured and without defense, in the middle of the fray. Let us concentrate on the two Orcs and their Wargs, and let Kili tell us what to do about the female.”

I tried to imagine one of the Gundebad Orcs’ monstrous Wargs acting as Kili’s defender, and couldn’t. But Rhiannel was not the teller of outrageous tales that Kili was, and he was not the brash, imaginative spirit that Giriel was. If anything, he was the steadiest and most thoughtful of us all, and that made his wild story truth.

Fallin looked around us, and when we all nodded agreement, even an incredulous Dís and Ferrisch, he nodded to settle it. We would leave the female Warg untouched.

“We will tell our folk to leave the female Warg untouched,” Ferrisch agreed, shaking his head.

“Rhiannel, do you think the Orcs will stay settled for the night, or ride on?” I asked.

“They’ve ridden hard all day,” he mused. “And the fight was no mere snarling festival, Tauriel. All three of the Wargs suffered bites, though one of the males took the brunt of it, and was limping. Kili was in no shape to ride, either. If they were anyone but Gundebad Orcs, I’d say no. Even Mirkwood Orcs would likely stop. But if they think they are pursued, they may push on.”

Míriel hiccupped, sounding distracted and unhappy, which reflected my own mood. When Drennal held out her arms for Míriel, I passed her the babe to cuddle.

“The Orc Spawn will try to pass the Orcs during the night,” I said. “Ferrisch, will you have your warriors armed and mounted before the sun rises?”

The Dwarf nodded quickly. “Just try and keep us from it, Tauriel. We don’t know how long it’ll take the Orcs to see you Elves, but we’ll be in place before time to make sure we see them.”

“Good,” Fallin nodded with satisfaction. “Our plan remains to trap the Orcs between Elves and Dwarves, and to leave Kili and his Warg untouched.”

Rhiannel exhaled. “The Orcs may not have arrows to shoot, thanks to Kili. But if he is not well enough to ride on his own tomorrow, he is still in danger of the Orcs’ scimitars.”

I swallowed, and tried not to think of my _a’maelamin_ so badly hurt, and so vulnerable to more of the same. “Then it is up to us all to engage them as swiftly as we can, before they are fully aware of us if possible.”

Again, Fallin looked at each of us, and again, each of us nodded agreement. “Then we will engage at first light in the morning, or as soon as we find them thereafter.”

“We’ll be ready.”

I handed Míriel, already fed and dressed, to Dís, then Míriel’s bag. Kili’s mother held the babe as easily as she had back in Thorin’s Halls, but this time there was as much attention as competence in her hands. That reassured me. I hated to be parted from our daughter, but better that she not be in the midst of a battle with me. I gave Míriel a kiss, and was touched when all of the Orc Spawn did as well. Dís added her kiss to the top of Míriel’s head, and surprisingly had a kiss for my cheek, as well.

“I’ll keep her safe. Now, off with you, Elves. Save my son, your friend, and Tauriel’s _amrâlimê_. Go kill some Orc.”

She took Míriel and followed Ferrisch back to her tent. The five of us walked together to our horses, ready to ride north and around the Orcs to wait for dawn.

“ _Comys thoyn_ , Orc Spawn,” Giriel said softly, putting her hand out for us to touch. “Tomorrow, we get our own back.”

“ _Comys thoyn_ ,” came back the response.

We mounted our horses, and rode east.

 

* * *

 

“By all of the Valar, Kil, what did that bastard do to you? You’re nothing but raw meat! Valar, Kili!”

Fili again. Shrieking. It hurt too much to swallow, much less answer him. “Go away, Fili. You’re not real. You’re dead.”

“You’re close to it, _bràthair_. Please, Kili, please. I beg you, don’t make me watch you die like this. Just let go, and I’ll catch you. Please.”

I tried to swallow again, but couldn’t; I was too thirsty. “You’re not real, Fili. You’re not even Fili. You’re just the part of me that’s scared, trying to make the rest of me let go.”

“Then listen to yourself. Let go!”

“No! No, Fil. I can’t. I know Tauriel’s behind me. She’ll be here soon. I’ll hold on until then.”

“You’re not that strong.”

“Not for myself, you’re right. But I am for Tauriel. And Míriel. So go away. I don’t have breath to argue with you.”

A swallow. A sigh. “I love you, Kili.”

“I love you, Fili. Please, don’t come back. I’ll see you on the other side, whenever that comes.”

He tugged my hair, then I was alone.

No, not alone. Someone still tugged my hair. I pried my eyes open, and made the mistake of moving. My back blazed with fire. All of those welts, all of those raw welts...

Another tug. Grimmaz’s head hovered over me. She whined, and nosed my hair again. I inched a hand up to her chest, and rubbed her slowly, telling her I was awake. She whuffed, rolled onto her side, and raised her front leg to inch her belly closer to me. She was trying to maneuver herself to help me feed. I shifted gingerly, gritting my teeth against the pain as I found her teat. I was so thirsty, so empty, that no matter how much it hurt to shift closer to her, I did it. I would hurt no matter what position I was in, so I might as well hurt while feeding. The milk tasted good, more than good, given how long I’d gone without food and water, and with each swallow it pulled me back from the abyss. I filled myself until I couldn’t drink any more. Then I lay still, breathing slowly because even that hurt.

When Grimmaz tried to lick me, the pain was blinding, and I whimpered. Amazingly, she lightened her touch, which still hurt, but at least was bearable. She carefully swabbed my oozing back, so I lay as still as I could, other than to stroke her chest.

Her head snapped up, and when she growled, her lips curled up to display her fangs. I gingerly looked around, and found Berqk and Krugnash stalking towards us. The former had a handful of straps in his hands.

They were going to strap me down over Grimmaz’s back again, like they had when they’d first snatched me. I thought about all that up and down, up and down, up and down, being lashed to Grimmaz’s harness so tightly that both she and I would be racked with every stride, and the sun beating down on my torn back. I hadn’t thought that anything could have gotten me to move at all this morning, but I was wrong. I struggled to my feet to stand at Grimmaz’s head, my hand on her cheek.

“What the fuck do you lot want?” I snarled. “If you think you’re going to rig me like a sack of grain again, you think again.”

“The little Dwarf prince is full of himself this morning,” Krugnash snarled, grinning.

“ _Comys thoyn_ , _undur kurv._ I’m halfbreed renegade and proud of both. More fools you for thinking otherwise. It’ll be funny to see the look on your face when the Dwarves tell you the truth about me.”

Berqk snarled such a foul curse that I didn’t know what he said, which would have miffed Dwalin. He took it as a point of honor to know every curse in every language in Middle Earth, and had taught his students accordingly. Berqk started forward with the straps, but when I tensed, Grimmaz moved from growls to snapping.

“I told you, you’re won’t tie me. Don’t try unless you want her to show you how a Warg says no. It starts with taking off your hand and goes from there.”

Berqk cursed again. The fire in his red eyes told me that I didn’t have long before even Krugnash couldn’t hold him back, and then buggery would be the least of what he’d do to me. But Krugnash laughed.

“You better stay on the bitch yourself, then, Dwarf. The first time you fall off, Berqk gets to tie you back on. Sure you don’t want to be the sack of grain now, before he gets angry?”

Grimmaz’s stance was crouched, her front legs bent to leap at the Orcs if they increased their threat to either of us. I edged a foot into the crease of her elbow and managed to get myself atop her without screaming. That was the only answer I gave, so both of the Orcs backed away and turned towards their own beasts. I looked east, wishing we were heading in any other direction...

Did a horse and rider stand there?

I shut my eyes. I was so lightheaded that I had conjured what I wanted to see out of fever dreams and sun dazzle. Any moment now, I’d probably see Fili atop a battle ram gallop up to tell me that the arrow in my thigh was nasty and my back looked like raw meat. Valar, why didn’t he leave me alone? I opened my eyes and drew a careful breath to tell him where to stick his battle ram –

The horse and rider were still there. It wasn’t Fili or a battle ram, either. It was an Elf.

I blinked. Now there were two of them.

I blinked again. No, there weren’t two, after all. There were five. Tauriel, Fallin, Giriel, Rhiannel, and Drennal. They sat waiting on their horses, about fifty yards apart from each other, about one hundred yards from me.

They’d come after me. Oh, Valar, Fili, Valar! They _had_ come after me!

Adrenaline surged through my body. I no longer felt pain, only a surge of hope. I had only seconds before Berqk and Krugnash mounted their Wargs and saw the Orc Spawn blocking the way east. Berqk didn’t have his arrows anymore, but both he and Krugnash still had their long scimitars, and I had to keep Grimmaz and me out of their path. More importantly, Grimmaz was still chained to her tether stake rather than Berqk’s Warg. The Orcs had their backs to me, so I slithered off Grimmaz and ran for the tether stake. I couldn’t get the chain free. Could I pull the stake up? I heaved and heaved, not caring what the effort cost me. I got it halfway up before Berqk noticed, and ran at me with a howl, pulling his knife out.

“Grimmaz!” I shouted. “Grimmaz!”

She lunged forward, driving Berqk back, but he wasn’t far enough away for me to give the stake another heave. Krugnash was astride now, and drove his Warg right at Grimmaz. She reared up, biting the Warg’s neck and shaking him until he squealed. The Wargs broke, and I ran for Grimmaz, thinking I stood a better chance astride her than not. I leaped, just catching the handhold to haul myself up. Then I hung on, because Grimmaz whirled to snap as Krugnash’s beast attacked her hindquarters. The neck chain brought her up short with a snarl, and the Warg gave her a vicious bite over her spine. Screaming at him, I reached back and brought my fist down on his nose as hard as I could. I pounded him again, and yet again. Cartilage crumpled under my fist, and finally the beast let go. Grimmaz reared up, fighting the tether. Finally, finally, the stake came out of the ground. We were free!

The Orc Spawn had closed while I’d pounded the male Warg. They came galloping towards us from all sides, bows drawn, arrows targeted. When one shaft thunked home into the leg of Krugnash’s Warg, the beast screamed in pain, but kept running. I urged Grimmaz away, but she’d have none of it. She launched us after Berqk’s Warg in full howl, so I struggled to pull up her tether chain so it didn’t trip her. That gave me a weapon, for the tether stake was heavy iron with a point at one end and a ring at the other – both mace and pike. I looped the chain behind me, got the stake in a grip, and shouted to Grimmaz, urging her on.

Berqk’s Warg turned tail and ran. Krugnash was already heading west, away from five Elves howling unlike any Elves Middle Earth had seen before. Grimmaz and I were in full voice, too, and both Orcs raced ahead of us without thought of anything but retreat.

Ahead, out of the early morning haze, a line of Dwarves rode hard towards me. They instantly broke into full battle cry, and pushed their rams forward at a run.

Krugnash turned with a curse. “Take the she-Elf!” he roared to Berqk, and both of them launched themselves at my _amrâlimê_.

I sent Grimmaz after Krugnash. She lunged after the male Warg with such fury that he swerved away from Tauriel. I raced after him. His Warg slewed around in a scatter of dirt, gathered himself, and came straight at Grimmaz. Krugnash’s scimitar went high, and so did my spike. I didn’t aim for him, but for his blade, and when his Warg twisted out of Grimmaz’ way, he swept his blade at my head. I parried it with the ring end of the stake, then jabbed the pointed end down into his gut. I wrenched it out as his Warg passed us, leaving a foot long gash deep enough that he wouldn’t survive for long. Fitting, given how hard he’d beaten me with this same stake a few days ago. I urged Grimmaz away, and looked for Berqk.

The bastard had three arrows in his body, and his Warg had four, but he still drove on, away from the Dwarves, straight for Tauriel. Drennal came at him from the side, screaming and shooting arrows as she raced to cut him off. His Warg twisted out of the way, came behind Drennal, and jumped her horse, raking his hindquarters with the claws of both front paws. The horse staggered, nearly pitching Drennal to the ground, but she held on as Berqk evaded Giriel and Fallin to bear down on Tauriel.

My _amrâlimê_ dodged, turning in the saddle to shoot at him. The arrow flew, striking the Warg in the shoulder, making him stumble and tumbling Berqk to the ground. Tauriel circled, driving Jalsin after him, but he got his scimitar up and swung it not at my wife, but at Jalsin’s legs. The mare made an impossible leap over the sweeping blade, so contorted in mid jump that she could not hold the landing, and fell hard. Tauriel rolled free, her bow still in her hand, but without arrows. She barely had time to drop it and draw her sword before Berqk sprinted after her with a roar.

I turned wildly, looking for anything near me –

There was Drennal afoot, her horse screaming from the wounds the Warg had dealt him. She held her bow aloft –

“Throw it!” I howled. “Throw it!”

She hurled it. As soon as I caught it, she sent two arrows after it. I urged Grimmaz around and launched her at Berqk trading blows with Tauriel. Even with three arrows in him, he was proving to be just as tough as Bolg, and Tauriel wasn’t strong enough to parry his blows. As Grimmaz raced over the stubble, I shot at Berqk, hitting him both times. He staggered.

“Run!” I screamed. “Tauriel! Run!”

In the face of a Warg bearing down on her, Tauriel scrambled away. Grimmaz bore down on the Gundebad Orc, closed her jaws on him, and gave him a savage shake. The sound of breaking bones was audible.

Berqk’s Warg finally fell under arrows from Fallin and Giriel. The Dwarves were putting an end to Krugnash’s Warg with arrows and axes, and most of Berqk was down Grimmaz’s gullet. Call me vicious, but I circled Grimmaz, looking for Krugnash. He lay where he’d fallen after my blow, panting hard as he bled out.

 _“Flas daguli_ Kili _shakutarbik-ob thrakuz-lat skator-u_!” I snarled.

I think he heard most of it before Grimmaz finished what I’d begun with her tether spike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes: 
> 
> Flas daguli Kili shakutarbik-ob thrakuz-lat skator-u! = Tell the demons that Kili the Dwarf sent you to hell!
> 
> I did the best I could to translate the above into proper Black Speech. Literally, it says, "(You) speak to demons (that) Kili of the Dwarves brought you to hell." It's likely not grammatical, but as every translation site I used tells us, Orcs aren't so good with grammar, anyway :-).


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all.
> 
> Finally, it's reunion time! Hope you enjoy the happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to guess which part of the reunion made me cry?

I sat quietly until Grimmaz finished Krugnash. When she was done, she gave a sigh and her body loosened beneath me, easier now that she and I were free of our captors. I stroked her neck, humming, making much of her, thanking her. Her head came up, eyes shut, savoring my caress, and we stood still for some minutes.

Gradually, as battle lust faded, I felt the pain of wounds again, the scourge of thirst, the lightheadedness of hunger. When I looked to the south, I saw five Elves and several times as many Dwarves, all standing to look out at me. None of them ventured close, not knowing whether Grimmaz would round on them as she had the Orcs. I didn’t know, either.

After a long time, one of them did venture close. Tauriel. When she came within earshot, I rubbed Grimmaz’s neck to tell her all was well, and called to Tauriel.

“I need a chain cutter.”

She held her hands to her ears. She couldn’t hear me. I didn’t have much voice, but I called louder.

“Chain cutter.”

“Speak Quenya,” she called back.

Oh, Valar, it’d been so long since I’d heard or spoken anything but Black Speech that I didn’t remember to speak anything else. “I need a chain cutter.”

She raised a hand, and walked back to the others. There was a flurry of activity as Dwarves rummaged in packs and panniers, and soon the cutter was in Tauriel’s hands. She walked out to me again, holding the tool for me to see.

I pointed to the ground, so she put it there. Then I waved her back. “Tell everyone to be quiet.”

She nodded. Then she put her hand to her heart and held it out to me. My chest caught, but I couldn’t think about that yet. I had one thing left to do before I went back to being a Dwarf.

When Tauriel was back with the others, I rode Grimmaz to where the cutter lay. I got off, took it in hand, and remounted. Then Grimmaz and I headed north, until we couldn’t see the Elves and the Dwarves. The steppe stretched out beyond us, seemingly without end, the stubby grass finally greening, the breeze blowing softly, ruffling the grass and Grimmaz’s fur. Slowly, a herd of antelope straying from the bigger numbers further north appeared, stringing out across the steppe to graze.

When the antelope stretched from horizon to horizon, I slid off Grimmaz for the last time. I spent a while grooming her, humming as I usually did. She’d gotten used to me slipping my fingers under her harness, so she stood quietly as I found the thinnest part of the straps, slipped the chain cutter around it, and squeezed the blades. Valar, the chain in between the leather was stubborn! It took all my strength to lever the blades through it, but finally, I cut through the strip that ran behind Grimmaz’s front legs. I cut the one running in front of her legs, and the ends fell to the ground. I ducked under her head to slip the handhold off her back, and eased the whole abomination from her. I made sure that she was free of any remaining thorns or burs, and I buried my face in her fur, whispering her name to her. I whuffed and pushed her shoulder, urging her towards the antelope.

“Go, my fierce one. Go.”

She licked me once, nosed me twice, and loped away. She didn’t look back, so she didn’t see me sink to my knees, and cry.

 

* * *

 

After a while, I heard a step behind me, quiet and reserved, taking pains not to intrude. Tauriel. I looked around carefully; my back was fire and conflagration, and I felt quite lightheaded, without strength. There she was, Elf of beautiful red hair and emerald eyes, a clutter of gear slung over her shoulders, waiting for me.

“Tell me what you need first,” she said. The sound of her soft voice was a shock after so long of hearing nothing but harsh, guttural Black Speech. To hear Quenya again was like hearing a soft and graceful melody for the first time.

I pointed to one of the water bottles she bore, so she came beside me, knelt, and unslung the bottle from her shoulder. I drained it in a single gulp, so thirsty was I. When she offered me the second, I drained it just as fast. She opened the third one, dampened a cloth, and gently dabbed at my face, not so much cleaning it as granting me the restoring grace of the water. As light as her touch was, it overwhelmed me as she smoothed my matted hair from my eyes and wiped my face. She took my hands, one by one, and wiped them, too, carefully stroking each finger separately, massaging the water into the calluses, palms, and finger pads. After the cruelty of Orcs, the compassion of my _amrâlimê_ was almost too intense to endure. Even if I’d had any voice, I could not have spoken.

A bit of lembas bread soaked in water made its way into my mouth. The taste was just as overpowering as Tauriel’s touch. It was the largest bit of solid food I’d had in weeks, and the sensation of chewing was a forgotten pleasure. I chewed it slowly, wringing every bit of savor out of it. More followed, and with each swallow I felt stronger. I sat still, eyes shut, feeling the water and bread coursing through me, erasing the weeks of deprivation. In time, when I opened my eyes, Tauriel still knelt beside me, no steppe mirage after all. When I smiled at her, the expression felt foreign.

“What do you need next? There is an apothecary with your folk. I have clothes if you want them, too.”

I held up a handful of the chain that went around my neck, and pointed to the Dwarvish tool. She nodded.

“Let me see how it’s fastened,” she replied.

Tauriel smoothed back my matted and tangled hair. The chain had galled my skin raw, but I held still as Tauriel studied the fastener. It was a heavy, crude thing, smashed closed once in place so that it could not be opened again. She would have to cut the link it held to free the chain.

“I don’t have enough strength to free it with just my arms,” she said. “If you lie down, I will have more leverage.”

I put the cutter in her hands, and put mine atop hers. So Tauriel carefully positioned it on the link. “It’s in place. Can you feel it?”

I felt the link and how Tauriel had placed the cutter, and nodded. Then I put my hands back on the tool, drew hers atop mine, and started to press. I provided the strength, Tauriel kept the tool away from my skin, and together we cut the chain.

When it fell away with a rattle, I was no longer a sacrificial animal. The sunlight seemed a little brighter and the air, a little cooler, and I was overcome again. I let the tool slip to the ground, and drew up Tauriel’s hands to kiss them. Her fingers tightened on mine, drawing my eyes up. She kissed my lips despite how foul I was. I was content to sit and look at her, to let it sink in that I was free. Even the grass stubble seemed softer now.

“Kili?” Tauriel asked.

I shook my head, and looked out across the steppe. “I want to make sure this is real.”

She stroked my foul hair. “It is real. You will know it more surely when the apothecary has tended you, and you have washed.”

I nodded, but didn’t move to get up. Truly, to have a choice of whether to move or not was something I’d missed. So was the peace of silence but for Tauriel’s voice, and the smell of grasses untainted by Orc stench. So was the serene look on Tauriel’s face.

I shifted, wincing when my back flamed anew. The fight had opened several of the welts, and the sting of sweat under the rising sun made breathing as well as movement painful.

“Let the apothecary tend you,” Tauriel urged gently. “I can bring him to you here, if you would rather be tended away from our folk. I can bring bathing things, too.”

“I’m not fit for decent folk,” I admitted. “I smell like Orc.”

“You are fit for nothing but decent folk,” Tauriel said firmly, “as you will shortly discover. The Orc Spawn is eager to welcome back our much-missed brother. I rejoice in the return of my most precious _amrâlimê_. And the Dwarves want to herald you as the fiercest of warriors and most breathtaking of Warg riders.”

“ ‘Most breathtaking of Warg riders?’ ” I repeated. “Did a Dwarf come up with that?”

“That was Giriel, of course,” Tauriel’s eyes twinkled. “She was quite dazzled. Please Kili, promise me you won’t teach the Orc Spawn how to ride real Wargs, no matter how hard Giriel begs you.”

My lips curved up in a smile. “We’ll see,” was all I said.

 

* * *

 

To see Kili’s smile emerge, however faintly, from his ordeal was a gift. The signs of that ordeal were terrible – torn back; filthy and matted hair; skin streaked with blood, dirt, and grime; and unnumbered scrapes, gouges, and bruises. He was exhausted, and surely dehydrated; I’d never seen anyone drink mere water like Kili had, as if each drop were a blessing. He’d eaten the lembas bread carefully, too, as if he’d forgotten how to chew. He desperately needed tending, but when the haunted looked faded from his eyes and a smile slowly crept over his face, I knew that he had already started to heal.

In time, he mustered the strength for the walk to our folk. He put on the smalls and loose trousers I had brought for him, but his feet were too filthy and sore to force into boots. He stooped for a handful of the chain that had bound him, and when we set off south, the rest of the chain and harness dragged behind us. We walked slowly, only as fast as Kili wanted to go.

As we drew closer, we found that the Orc Spawn had been busy, setting up our tent. Around it rose the Dwarves’ canvas shelters. Beyond, Elvish horses grazed amid Dwarvish rams, looking as peaceful as any farm flock despite them all being war steeds. In fact, the calm scene seemed dreamlike after the morning’s rescue. Kili paused to regard the bustle, surely finding it as incongruous as I did.

“Will so many folk be too much?”

He shook his head again. “I want to be with good folk again.”

His voice was just above a whisper, even after all the water he’d drunk. My throat tightened, but I did not cry; his voice might be gone for this moment, but he was not, and so his voice would return. “Then prepare for several good folk to descend upon you. We have missed you.”

Drennal had been watching for us, and she eagerly gathered the rest of the Elves. They came forward together.

“Welcome home,” Rhiannel said quietly, and our comrades echoed that. Smiling, he glanced at Giriel, then the rest of us, and we put our hands together as the Orc Spawn. “ _Comys thoyn,_ Kili.”

Kili’s chuckle was silent as he added his hand to ours. “ _Comys thoyn, mellonea nin,_ ” he graveled.

“You sound awful, and you look worse,” Giriel said with her usual tact. “I’m getting that apothecary right now.”

She ran off, and didn’t see Kili look back and forth, then up at me. His gaze was anxious and his fingers tightened on mine. “Míriel. Where is Míriel? Oh, Valar, the Orcs –”

“Did not touch her,” I assured him. “She has been very busy teaching her _Gabilmaamr_ what a delightful babe she is.”

Kili’s eyes widened. “ _Maamr_ is here?”

“She is. She has become quite fond of our babe. See; there they are, coming towards us.”

Giriel returned with Dís and the apothecary in tow. Míriel was on her grandmother’s shoulder, looking around eagerly, one hand held out as if pointing the way. When she saw Kili, her eyes widened, and she kicked in excitement.

“Look, Miri, it’s your _Taad!"_ I called to our babe.

Kili stared at her in wonder. “She looks so different. She’s grown so much. She won’t remember me.”

“She will,” I assured him. “You will see.”

And so Míriel did, no matter how filthy Kil was. She leaned from Dís’s arms to wave her arms, and reached out to grab Kili’s nose and burble emphatically. Kili’s lips finally curved up into a smile that was worthy of the term.

“Míriel! Hello, Miri, my sweet bairn.” Kili’s voice was stronger, and the light was growing in his eyes. “You’re so big now! Do you remember me, Miri? Do you? Oh and oh, you do! And you’ve got your _Gabilmaamr_ as your willing steed, don’t you?”

“She does,” Dís averred without apology. “She is a bonny thing, and she’ll be quite happy to stay with me while you see to yourself, Kili. Once Niri sees to your wounds, you and Míriel can have a long conversation.”

I hummed agreement, but Kili hardly noticed, so intent was he on Míriel’s face – our daughter’s happy, bright-eyed face. “Yes. That’s what I want, very much.”

Dís reached out a hand to stroke Kili’s matted hair. “I’m glad you’re back with us, my son. Now, go wash, before I threaten to scrub you down myself with a laundry brush.”

The words had been Dís’s typical brisk ones, but the tone had been soft, and so had been the look in her eye, even when Kili had chuckled.

Kili let me draw him towards the Orc Spawn tent. The apothecary, Niri, came with us, his bag of medicines over his shoulder.

For all that had happened this morning, it was still early, and the strong spring sunlight shone into our tent, making it into a bright haven. The Orc Spawn had wanted to give Kili a familiar homecoming, arranging it as we had during our trip to the Blue Mountains, with our baggage and private spaces arranged around the tent walls, and the open center. Now, however, there was a proper fire pit in the center, already lit with a pot of water simmering atop it. Two more large pails of water stood by the door along with soap and soft towels. Kili dropped his chain and Warg harness by his things while I spread one of the soft towels out by the fire. That was where Kili would sit while Niri did his work.

“I’ll mix you a dose of poppy first,” Niri said, laying out his supplies. “It’ll help ease the pain of cleaning your wounds.”

“No poppy,” Kili insisted. “I don’t want any poppy.”

“You have many wounds, _amrâlimê_. Your back especially needs a thorough cleaning so it can heal properly. It would be much easier to tend it if you weren’t in so much pain.”

Kili shook his head. “The poppy puts me to sleep, and gives me bad dreams. I want to be here.”

“Niri can mix a dose that won’t put you to sleep, yes?” Niri nodded. “Just enough for us to clean your wounds. Please, _amrâlimê_. Let us see to you.”

He relented, but still looked as skittish as a frightened animal – of course he did. That’s what his life had been for the past five weeks. He swallowed the bitter dose quickly, before he had time to think about it again. To distract him, I brought one of the buckets of water over. “Come, I will help you wash while we wait for the poppy to ease you. Hair first.”

Niri busied himself with his supplies, so Kili got to his hands and knees, dipped his tangled hair in the bucket, and I soaped it thoroughly, easing out as many snarls as I could with my fingers. When I’d rinsed it clean, I blotted it for him, then smoothed oil through it. I eased out the mats carefully, and combed it away from his back so that when he sat up the drips wouldn’t run into the torn skin and make it sting. Then I washed his face, and braided his hair into two loose plaits.

The poppy was beginning to work, for his body relaxed, and his eyes grew sleepy, but as I promised, it wasn’t enough to make him sleep. Niri helped steady him as I washed gently, all but his back. There was not an inch of skin on him anywhere that wasn’t bruised, scraped, torn, or gashed – except, I was relieved to see, for his privates. Kili’s suffering had been horrific, but I sent my silent gratitude to the Valar for sparing him that abuse.

By the time Niri and I had washed away the last of the grime and filth, Kili was well relaxed, and he lay down quietly for Niri to tend his back. The deep welts were many and severe, and would have likely killed an Elf or a Man. How Kili had managed to survive them last night, much less drive himself to his efforts this morning was a testament to the sturdiness of Dwarves. The cleaning was painful, even with the poppy, for Kili moaned softly. But at last, the wounds were clean, and Niri slathered a thick layer of _athelas_ and other herbs over them, then a layer of honey, then a soft wrapping of bandage to keep them clean. I eased him into smalls and loose pants, then slipped a soft undertunic over his head. He placidly let me guide his arms into the sleeves, and roll the sleeves up to his elbows. With some soft slippers to ease his feet, he looked much the better.

“Rest tonight,” Niri advised us. “And tomorrow. The day after, too, if need be. “The world will still be here when you’re well enough to ride.”

I thanked the Dwarf, and Kili did, too, albeit in a dreamy sort of way. He was not asleep, but he was far from alert, and the Dwarf winked at me as he packed up his things. He slipped me a packet.

“Only as much as you can pinch between your thumb and pointing finger, in a goblet of water the size I used,” he said. “Every four or five hours, only as he needs it, just for a day or two. I’ll get you a salve to use once the _athelas_ draws the heat out of the wounds. You’ll need to keep the welts moist to keep the healing skin from tearing.”

“I understand. Thank you for tending Kili so expertly.”

He touched his temple, and left the tent. I put the packet in the pocket of my tunic, and knelt beside Kili.

“Better, _a’maelamin_?”

He nodded. “So much better. I feel like more than an animal again. It’s been so long.” He looked up at me dreamily. “How many days have I been gone?”

“Thirty-six. It felt like thirty-six lifetimes to me. I’m sure it felt even longer to you.”

“Much longer.” He looked down at himself. “Clothes. It feels strange to be properly dressed after so long.”

“You are not quite properly dressed,” I said lightly. It was endearing to see him frown hazily, then look at me in puzzlement.

“What, am I missing something? I think I have my pants on, don’t I? Pants are the important part, mostly.”

“Mostly,” I agreed with him. “You need your hair properly braided. Would you like me to do it, or would you rather sleep?”

“No sleep,” he said firmly. “Not yet. I want my braids, and then I want my daughter.”

“I’ll do them for you. There’s broth coming, too, and bread, so you can look respectable for luncheon.”

“Always prudent,” Kili agreed, his eyes already closing as I combed his hair through. I put in my _a’maelamin_ braid on the left, and his _amrâlimê_ braid on the right, and our marriage twist down the back. His face was thinner, and dark circles ringed his eyes, but he was beginning to look himself again.

“There. Your hair is properly braided.”

His eyes opened sleepily. They were calm, and beginning to find their warm glow again. “Then I am completely, properly dressed.”

“Not quite.”

He frowned again, concentrating. “Still? Pants, braids... what else? It must be some Elvish refinement that I haven’t learned yet.”

I shook my head, smiling. “No, _a’maelamin_. Let me get the last things so that you will be completely, properly dressed.”

He watched me with hazy curiosity as I fished through my bag, found what I wanted, and came back to him. I opened my palm, revealing his marriage rings that I had carried since he’d left them for me in Thorin’s Halls.

“I hope you’d like your rings back.”

His eyes waxed with laughter. “You can’t ask me to marry you again, Tauriel. We are already married. Don’t you remember?”

“I do. Why don’t you pretend this is our marriage day again while I put on your rings for you?”

“All right.”

I eased the rings into his ears, and slipped the finger ring onto his hand. “There. You are my husband again.”

He giggled. “I am? I thought I was already. Didn’t we get married before? Last year, I thought?”

I grinned. “I’m going to kiss you anyway. I am very glad to have you back.”

Kili smiled as I kissed him. For a poppy-addled Dwarf, he managed to kiss me back very sweetly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saying goodbye to Grimmaz broke my heart. Still does. I'm tearing up now. Not all Wargs are evil.


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Here's a little interlude where babes burble, Dwarves cook, and plans are made for the morrow.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the respite!

Now that Kili was clean and comfortable, the rest of the Orc Spawn busied themselves around the tent, rolling up the tent sides to catch the steppe breezes and more sunlight, stoking the fire, carrying harness back and forth, resting, and so on. They did not make a stir, for that was not Eldar habit; instead, they sought to welcome Kili back with the sights and sounds of normal life among decent folk.

I wished Bilbo could magically appear to make one of his delicious chicken pies. The savory aroma of that dish would revive anyone.

Our first visitor, of course, was Dís. At our reply to her herald, she came inside with Míriel in her arms, looking about the tent with an appreciative eye for our comfortable arrangement. Drennal and Fallin sat by the central fire with Kili and me, she stirring a pot of broth, he unwrapping dried fruit. We had tea brewing, and small cups arranged on a tray. Kili sat more or less steadily, leaning on his side against one of the saddle frames because the poppy made him sleepy. Still, he perked up to see our babe in his mother’s arms.

“ _Aaye_ , Dís,” I greeted. “We’re just having tea, and Drennal is making Kili some broth.”

The Dwarf maid sat by Kili, smiling at her son. “The tea smells good, and so does the broth. Now, Miri, do you think you can play with someone else for a few moments while I have my tea? I know someone who’d like to play with you.”

Míriel was already struggling to reach Kili, who gathered her up eagerly. Míriel’s father might be comfortably hazy from his dose of poppy, but he hugged Míriel close, smelling her hair, kissing her cheek, rubbing her back as if trying to make up for the more than five weeks he’d missed with her. In her turn, Míriel laughed and burbled enthusiastically, her hands patting Kili’s nose and cheeks. She latched on to one of the marriage rings in Kili’s ear, giving it a good yank as she tried to get it into her mouth, but he laughed and gently eased it out of her hand.

“Oh and oh, you’re getting so strong, aren’t you? No, that’s not a good toy, Miri. Here, chew on my finger. That tastes so much better, doesn’t it? Here, try this.” He dipped his finger into his bowl of broth and gave it to Míriel to gum. “Mmm, much better, isn’t it? You like Auntie Drennal’s soup, don’t you? Mmm.”

Dís was content to sip her tea and watch Kili with Míriel, for which I was grateful. The last time she and Kili had been together, they had not parted in agreement, and they would need to come to a resolution before long. But I hoped Dís would be wise enough to let Kili recover from his ordeal and return to Imladris before she pressed such a conversation on him. Indeed, the talk wandered among simple, mundane things of no consequence, which was just what we all needed. Drennal told Dís about our Elvish tent and the cloth that made it up. Fallin asked about the Dwarves’ battle rams. Dís offered the information that several of the Dwarves were planning to hunt today, given that we would not travel for at least a day or two. Giriel had come in by then, and expressed interest in joining the band, so Dís told her which of the Dwarves to talk to, and she went out to find him.

Kili oversaw it all with a dreamy smile that wasn’t entirely poppy-induced. Having Míriel in his lap had a lot to do with it, of course. I believe I had something to do with it, too, for several times I found him gazing at me with the same warm, longing expression he’d revealed in King Thranduil’s cell when we’d first met. It was warmth I was glad to return, without stint. To have him beside me again was indescribable.

Luncheon came in from the Dwarves’ fires, simple flatbread filled with dried meat long simmered and plumped in broth, which I had never had before, nor had any of the other Elves. The meat must have gone on the fire as soon as the fight with the Orcs had ended, for it was tender, easy to chew, and exotic with the many spices pounded into the meat when it had been dried. When I wondered that aloud, Dís laughed.

“It went into the pot _before_ the end of the fight, Tauriel. That’s the way of Dwarvish field mess cooks. They are fighters as hearty as all our warriors, but as soon as the tide turns, they set up the tripods and light the fires. They know a Dwarvish army fights best on full bellies. We like our rations, especially after a good fight!”

That sent laughter rippling around the fire as we shared out the food.

“As good as this is, we’ll have better than this at supper, or so Fulrisch swears,” Giriel said excitedly as she licked her fingers. “He’s the Dwarf heading the hunting party. He says that they’re going to stuff an entire antelope with greens and tubers, and roast the whole thing over a fire.”

“Are they?” Drennal paused as she was about to dip her bread into the pot of meat. “I wonder what greens they’re going to use? Would they mind if I come, too?”

“Fulrisch would welcome several of us, I think, to help herd the antelope. I’m going. Come with me, Drennal, and we can race around the steppe again.”

“That was exciting,” Fallin admitted, sliding a guilty look at Kili, but Kili was happily waving Míriel’s finger puppets at her and making squeaky noises.

Dís smothered a surprised laugh. “None of you are like any Elves I’ve ever met. Wanting to race around the steppe and learn Dwarvish cooking?”

“And how many Elves have you met before us?” Rhiannel asked, smiling. “As guardsmen of Imladris, we race around the plain, and we also enjoy good food, as you do.”

Dís had the grace to look sheepish. “Point taken. The Dwarves of the Blue Mountains do have trading partners among the Elves to our south. I have met them. They’re not like you.”

“What are they like?” Drennal asked innocently. “I’d hoped to meet some when we passed through Mithlond – what you know as the Grey Havens. Are all of them shipwrights?”

“No,” Dís admitted. “Though many are. As you’d expect, given the skills that are part of shipbuilding, the Elves there practice many wood crafts, such as carving of all kinds, the making of musical instruments, beautiful cabinetmaking, and so forth. They also fish, and craft jewelry associated with the sea, such as carved shell work, pearls, of course, and so forth. They do not race around the steppe.”

“Most of the Elves of Imladris do not race around the plain, either,” Drennal confided. “I did not, not until Tauriel and Kili came. I was on the guard, but mostly as a horse trainer. Then they came, and everything turned upside down. You should have seen their audition! Tauriel has these amazing knives, and then she and Kili swatted down two of the guard’s best swordsmen in less than the blink of an eye, and then Kili stood on the back of a horse to ride him through the training field – he even drew his bow atop the horse, too. All of the Orc Spawn wanted to do those things, so Lord Elrond told Master Oteriel that we had to learn new ways to fight, and so Kili and Tauriel started to teach us, and we helped them learn our ways, and now we are all better fighters.”

I smiled at Drennal’s recitation. It was likely the longest string of words that she had ever put together in public, and I hoped that Dís heard echoes of what I had told her back in Thorin’s Halls in the maid’s spontaneous words.

Dís looked at the Elf maid in amazement. “The Orc Spawn?”

“That’s what we call the ones of us who wanted to learn how to stand atop a horse,” Giriel inserted, laughing. “When we’d learned enough, Master Oteriel, who is the head of the guard, had us fight like Orcs one day. Kili taught us this chant in the Black Speech –”

Dís shot Kili a look, but my _a’maelamin_ remained steadfastly oblivious, sipping his broth and happily playing with Míriel’s finger puppets rather than meeting his mother’s eyes.

“– that was quite foul. When our team won, we decided to call ourselves the Orc Spawn. Fallin and Tauriel were on the other team, but we made them part of our clan, too.”

“Nothing has changed,” Dís shook her head. “I told Dwalin I’d cover a footstool with his clan tattoos if he kept teaching Fili and Kili Black Speech, but you see how well he listened to me.”

A Dwarf heralded us from outside to tell us that the antelope hunters were gathering. Giriel and Drennal gathered their horses’ tack, and coaxed Fallin and Rhiannel into joining them. On many days, I would have gone with them, but today I preferred to stay with Kili and Míriel. I had been without Kili for too long, and had worried over my distressed babe too much, to forgo time with them for a mere hunting party. Once the Elves hastened off, Kili gathered Míriel into his arms to hug her. Dís gathered herself to leave as well, sensing that Kili was tiring.

“I’m off to ride herd on the hunters,” Dís announced, setting her teacup back on the tray. “You’ll be able to hear yourself breathe once they’re off, I expect. It’s all the boisterous ones going.”

“Elves as well as Dwarves,” I amended, drawing Dís’s chuckle.

“Truth,” Dís agreed.

“ _Maamr_?”

Dís and I both turned to Kili. His voice had been soft, muffled in Míriel’s hair.

“Yes, Kili?”

“Be grateful to Dwalin for teaching me the Black Speech. It kept me alive for thirty-six days.”

There was no rebuke in Kili’s voice, or bitterness. There was nothing childlike in it, either, and Dís was left with nothing to say. She leaned forward, touched his thigh, and got to her feet.

“Then, aye, I’m glad he did,” she said at last. “It would have been a hard and bitter thing to have gotten you back, only to lose you again in the next moment.

“I thank you for the tea,” she nodded to me, and made her way out.

Kili turned to look at the tent door, and when Dís was away, he exhaled, wincing a little.

“The poppy is wearing off.”

He nodded.

“Niri left a packet. I can mix it for you.”

He shook his head. “It’ll put me to sleep.”

“I expect that sleep is the best thing for you.”

He looked up at me, and smiled. “The best thing for me is being with you and Miri again. I missed you both so much.”

“As we missed you. But now is not the time to think on what was. There will be time for that later. For now, and the next several days, it is time to come back among those who love you, and to savor happiness. So play with our small bairn, and drink Drennal’s broth, and then perhaps you will want to rest before the big feast.”

Kili reached for my hand, which I gave him. He kissed it, then drew me forward to kiss my cheek, my temple, my lips. “You are right. It’s much better to savor than to brood.”

Míriel hiccupped and reached for me, wanting her luncheon. I took her, and Kili shifted against the saddle frame to watch me suckle our daughter. As I put her to my breast, Kili stroked my thigh, and I kissed his hair. We put the worst of the world behind us, and embraced the best.

 

* * *

 

The beautiful vision of Tauriel suckling Míriel and the numbing touch of poppy lulled me into dreamless sleep. I recall waking once, but Tauriel was beside me, murmuring to me, so It went back to sleep without fear. When I woke again, the light against my eyelids had dimmed. The sound of laughter outside the tent rose and fell, then someone started a song. I smelled smoke. I shifted carefully, stiff after several hours of lying in the same position against a saddle frame –

Wait – had I dreamed about being the captive of Orcs? Or was the dream this tent filled with the sounds and smells of family? Was I stiff because I’d slept so hard, or because I’d been beaten so hard? Was this a saddle frame covered with a blanket, or Grimmaz’s forelegs? Oh, Valar, I was afraid to move, not knowing whether I’d open my eyes to despair or salvation –

“Kili?” a soft voice beckoned. “Do not fear, _a’maelamin._ You are here with me.”

A gentle hand touched my hair. That was neither Warg nor Orc, so I opened my eyes, sighing in relief to see our Elvish tent around me, and feel Tauriel’s hand on mine. I lay still as dreams and nightmares and memories sorted themselves into their proper places, then sat up.

“Did you dream?” Tauriel asked as she filled a bowl full of broth and offered it to me.

“I didn’t. But when I woke up, I was afraid that I might be dreaming, and I’d wake up to find myself back with the Orcs.”

Tauriel hummed in sympathy. “It would not surprise me that you feel that way for a while yet. But I hope that it will pass the more time that passes. I hope your nap has helped you to feel a bit better, too.”

I considered, and nodded. “I’m stiff, but maybe if I move around a bit, that’ll ease. Mmm, the broth is good. I’m hungry.”

Tauriel brightened. “Good. Drennal and Giriel came in long enough to say that the hunters brought in eight antelope, and they are roasting them as we speak. A feast is in the making. If you feel ready for a walk, we can see how the cooking proceeds.”

I drank down the rest of my broth, feeling better with each sip. “I would like that.”

Tauriel helped me to rise without straining my sore back. She picked up Míriel, and we went outside together. The sun was almost down, but the warm glow of coals under the trio of spits was bright enough to shine on faces. The smell was so compelling that my stomach growled in anticipation and my mouth watered. As we drew near to the first spit, we were greeted with smiling faces and welcoming words. The antelope was a small one, and ready for sampling. I pointed, drawing Tauriel’s attention to the Dwarves slicing pieces off.

“Everyone helps himself,” I explained. “If I can borrow one of your knives, I’ll bring you some.”

Tauriel drew out one of her boot knives, better suited to slicing meat than one of her elegant fighting knives, and handed it to me. In short order, I had two good slices for us, and returned to share them with her. It was gamier than lamb or chicken, but succulent and juicy.

“Delicious,” Tauriel pronounced it, and of course I let Míriel lick my fingers, which she did with enthusiasm. “I can taste the herbs as well as the meat. Here, hold Míriel, and I’ll get us more.”

Míriel was happy to come into my arms, and she grabbed my fingers to gum them. Rhiannel came over, his knife well supplied with tidbits that he ate with relish.

“What, no Elvish greens?” I joked, drawing the Elf’s smile.

“They are scarce here, so I am forced to make do with this,” he grinned, munching with satisfaction. “It is a great hardship, as you can see.”

“A very great hardship,” I agreed, as Giriel and Tauriel joined us.

“A terribly great hardship,” Giriel snickered, also chewing. “I don’t expect much will be left, but I hope there will be. Drennal says she’ll make pie out of what’s left, baked overnight in a pot buried in the ashes.”

“Mmm. The best of breakfasts,” I agreed. “Something to look forward to.”

“Tomorrow might offer more than pie to look forward to,” Giriel said. “Fallin showed our map to the Dwarves, and we think we’re only a few miles from the Mitheithel River, which would be a good place to settle for a few days of rest. We’d have lots of fresh water for the animals, and also for cooking and bathing. Given how hard we’ve all run for so many days, no one wants to move very fast, so we will travel slowly. The Orc Spawn thought if we put lots of padding on Trellennan, Kili, you could travel in comfort. Once we reach the river and make a proper camp, we’ll have fun. We’re going to make a steppe festival, with games and races and singing, and eating.”

Tauriel looked at me with concern, worried about whether traveling so soon would aggravate my wounds, but I liked the idea. I already felt better after my afternoon rest, and solid food was quieting the ache in my belly that had plagued me for so long. The change of scenery would be welcome, and the games would be good fun for all concerned.

“I’m with you,” I said. “After a good night’s sleep, I’ll be ready to ride.”

Giriel smiled in anticipation. “Good. Fallin and I will talk with Ferrisch.”

Giriel drifted off to speak to Fallin, and Tauriel and I enjoyed the chatter of friends and the good food. The antelope didn’t last long under the assault of so many hungry Dwarves, but the company was pleasant as the fires burned low. I didn’t last long, either, and soon returned to our tent to sleep, but not until I had spoken with each Dwarf to thank him for helping to free me from the Orcs. Tauriel and Míriel came to be with me as I fell asleep.

Tauriel lit one of our lamps by the fire pit, and put Míriel down beside me once I’d arranged my blankets in our private space. “I want to see to your bandages,” she asked, easing my undertunic up to my shoulders. “Good; there’s only a little blood seeping through. I’m sure it’s painful, though, so I think you should take a little poppy, so you’ll sleep well enough to travel tomorrow.”

My back had started to feel like it was on fire again, so I conceded with a sigh. “All right, but only a little. Not enough to make me dream.”

I downed the dose Tauriel mixed for me with a shudder. So bitter! When Tauriel offered me some dried fruit to cover the bitter taste, I took a handful, and not just because it was sweet. Chewing solid food was still a novelty, and I enjoyed the sticky treat slowly while Tauriel fussed over my blankets.

“I’m fine, _amrâlimê_ ,” I said. “You don’t have to make such a fuss.”

Tauriel turned her emerald eyes on me. They were fierce. “You were taken from me for thirty-six days. If I want to make a fuss because you were given back to me, then I will.”

She helped me arrange myself comfortably on my side, with a folded blanket for my head and another to prop under my arm. She arranged Míriel in her bag of gowns with her squeaky ball, then lay down beside me. She took my hand to kiss it.

“If you keep spoiling me like this, I’ll get used to it, and then where will you be?” I teased, but Tauriel merely kissed my hand again.

“Exactly where I want to be,” she said.


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Some shit hits the fan, Kili tries to sleep, and Tauriel thinks about King Tharnduil. More angst all round!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> Miz barathar curp = my bloody ass

Once Kili slipped into sleep, I gathered Míriel and left the tent. The stars were ablaze overhead, and their restorative light sent life and health through me with each breath. Even Míriel, as tiny as she was, felt the light’s balm, for she stretched her arms and legs wide as I held her and sighed, drawing my silent chuckle. A day ago, she had been fussy and unsatisfied, pining for her father as much as I did. While Kili had much healing to do, his presence alone was enough to ease our little one, and that in turn eased me.

As I passed between the Dwarves’ tents, I heard snippets of conversations.

“... aye, and the way the prince rode that Warg! That was something that’s never been done before, to be sure! He must be half Elf, because he was _talking_ to her...”

“... and didn’t he come around to each of us, offering plain and simple thanks? Down to earth he is, and think of the stir in Erebor when he comes, the half-Elven prince...”

“... nah, Dain and Thorin had the same _great_ -grandfather, not grandfather. Dain the First, so they be _second_ cousins, not first. The prince be Dís’s youngest, so he be Thorin’s nephew, so he be the heir, not Dain Ironfoot...”

 “... Niri said Prince Kili be a right mess, he is. Flogged down to the bone! I don’t care what he looks half Elvish, Nathor; he be one hard Dwarf to take a beating like that...”

“... those Elves are riders, I’ll give ‘em that. Even the maids, bless ‘em! That blond one yells like my old battle captain when she fights, she does, and the dark one! She looked so quiet until that Warg went after one of her mates, and then she turned into the force of darkness...”

“... the two Elf lads took that Warg right out of the fight, didn’t they? Then one of the maids came in to help them finish it. That red-haired one is a warrior! Did you see her eyes when she faced down that Orc, and never mind how big as he was? A wonder he didn’t die of it right then...”

“... someone said the prince married a Elf? Which one? Oh, the red-haired one? Well, what do you expect, him seeming half-Elvish himself? What’ll that mean when he gets to Erebor...”

My throat tightened, and my bliss at Kili’s return vanished.

In addition to Kili’s mother, twenty Dwarves now knew that Prince Kili of the line of Durin was alive. As soon as they returned to the Blue Mountains or went on to Erebor, those twenty Dwarves would tell everyone they knew about the amazing miracle of Prince Kili’s ordeal, survival, and triumph. And then the swirl would begin about who should be king under the mountain.

Had we saved Kili’s life, only to lose our life together in Imladris?

My worry about Kili’s legacy was an old one. Now, however, a new worry supplanted the old. No one yet knew anything about Kili’s ordeal other than what we’d seen this morning. He’d been as feral as the Warg he’d ridden, and had endured the agony of horrific wounds to free himself and slay his captors. That spoke much of his strength of character... but also of the black depths that had pushed him to that extreme.

It has been my experience that folk who suffered terrible wounds healed their bodies well enough with rest, good food, and gentle care, but the harder work was to heal the memories of acquiring those wounds. Kili’s wounds would take weeks to heal properly, but I didn’t know how long it would take to restore the rest of him. He had surprised me to seem so normal at the feast, though he had tired very quickly and retreated to our tent. Perhaps the poppy had hazed over his time with the Orcs, and let him rejoice in the company of good folk. Perhaps being with our daughter and me again helped. I would know better when he woke in the morn.

The day would come, however, that we would have to face Kili’s legacy, and his mother with it. I could only hope that she would give her son time to heal... and me time to think. I would not surrender Kili and our life to a legacy Kili didn’t want.

To that end, I thought it best to prepare for the future by remembering the past – my past, rather than Kili’s. I had watched King Thranduil rule for hundreds of years – never at the negotiating table with him, of course, but a guard standing watch over that table was not deaf. I had heard him negotiate trade deals, make political alliances, broker agreements, and mediate disagreements large and small. He had excelled in weighing the facets of an issue without emotion, with utter ruthlessness, easily seeing both expected and unexpected outcomes, advantages, and disadvantages precisely because of his lack of heart. Granted, the issue I weighed was not one King Thranduil would consider worthy of his study or mediation, for it concerned mortal creatures. But he was not the only Elf who could look at turmoil with a ruthless eye.

I found the Orc Spawn as they stood under the stars, watching the moonrise and the occasional shooting star streak across the sky. They had heard conversation no different than what I had, and were equally concerned. In an hour, we had a plan and several contingencies. Despite the different scenarios they addressed, they all had the same first step.

We had to wait for Kili to wake up.

 

* * *

 

After our quiet discussion, I left the other Elves and ducked into our tent to settle beside Kili. At first, he slept soundly, likely because of the poppy. But as it wore off, he became more restless. Each time I shifted, or Míriel sighed, he flinched and half roused. Perhaps only his exhaustion kept him from completely waking, but a time or two he looked around the tent quickly as if searching for something. He muttered under his breath. As it was all in Black Speech, I did not know what he said, but I didn’t need to know – the language that he spoke told me enough.

I reached out to him, putting my hand on his arm. “Do not fear, Kili. You are safe.”

Sometimes my words were enough to calm him back to sleep, but sometimes they were not. He would flinch in his sleep hard enough to wake, then fight to sit up, which surely caused his wounds to hurt him. That pain likely made him fear he still suffered the Orcs’ abuses.

“Kili, _a’maelamin_ , you are safe,” I would repeat. “The Orcs are no more. You are here with me. Rest, _amrâlimê_. Rest.”

Kili would wake enough to look around the tent. He kept touching the blanket stretched over the saddle frame that made his pillow. Once he muttered, “Grimmaz? Where is Grimmaz?”

“Who is Grimmaz, Kili?”

“Grimmaz. My fierce one.”

That must be the Warg that had sheltered Kili. He kept touching the blanket because he looked for her.

“Grimmaz is free, Kili. You set her free. You and she killed the Orcs, and now you are both free.”

“Free?”

“You are free, Kili. Rest now. Sleep and ease your wounds. I will stay with you.”

“Tauriel?”

“I am here, Kili. Sleep, _a’maelamin_. Rest. I will not leave you alone.”

For a moment, awareness would shine in Kili’s eyes, and he’d touch me as if to convince himself of where he was. Then he would relax enough to go back to sleep... only to repeat the circle of waking and sleeping for the rest of the night.

When daylight crept into the tent, Kili was finally sleeping for more than a few moments at a time, but he felt warmer than he usually did. When the Orc Spawn drifted in for breakfast, I asked them to watch over Kili while I went searching for Niri. I found the Dwarf having his own breakfast by one of the cook fires.

“Good morn, Tauriel,” he wished me. “Would you care for tea or a bowl of porridge?”

I folded myself down on my heels beside the apothecary. He was still a young Dwarf, though perhaps thirty or forty years older than Kili, not given to the excessive braiding and decoration that so many of the older Dwarves favored. He kept his rough brown hair plaited in two thick braids that he swept over his shoulders, twisted together, and stuck into the back of his belt. His beard, too, was dressed the same way, with the braids clasped together at the base of his neck. His clothes were plain browns and greens, apt for one whose vocation included the study of herbs.

“Forgive me for not knowing your customs. I do not mean to be impolite or refuse your hospitality. I am grateful that you offer it, and would be glad to accept it at another time. But I am worried about Kili.”

“Nicely said, lass, and no offense taken. How is he?”

“He did not sleep well. His dreams are not good ones. He sleeps a bit better now, but he feels feverish, and his wounds hurt him.”

“Did he take the poppy?”

“Very little. He does not like it because it gives him evil dreams.”

Niri nodded grimly. “And he’s got a head full of those already, I’d wager.”

“I expect that is true. He has so many wounds; I am sure that finding a comfortable position to rest is impossible, and the pain also adds to his dreams.”

Niri grunted. “Surely so. I’ll get my bag and come with you.”

“I thank you.”

Niri slurped down the dregs of his tea, shoveled down his porridge, then rose to collect his bag. He came with me briskly, and nodded to Rhiannel and Giriel as he came into our tent. The two Elves sat near Kili, but Giriel got up to pour Niri a cup of tea, which he took with a nod.

“Fallin and Drennal took Míriel to look at the horses,” Rhiannel said, as Niri and I joined him beside Kili. “Kili is very restless, and it seemed to upset our babe. We thought perhaps she would disturb him, and would like a distraction.”

“Thank you,” I said, as Niri touched Kili’s forehead. My _a’maelamin_ flinched, muttering in Orcish under his breath, and tried to sit up again, sucking in his breath when his wounds pulled.

“Try to wake him,” Niri asked. “It’d be better if I look at his wounds while he’s awake and knows what I’m about, instead of while he’s dreaming.”

I bent over Kili, careful to touch him only where he wasn’t bandaged. “Kili, _amrâlimê_ , can you wake up? The apothecary is here to help you.”

He flinched at my touch, his eyes darted around the tent, and his hand clenched on the blanket. “Where is Grimmaz?”

“She is free, Kili. You freed her, and you are safe in our tent again.”

He looked closely at me, his eyes sharpening. “Tauriel?”

“I’m sorry to wake you, Kili. You’re feverish, and Niri is here to look at your wounds.”

He warily looked at Nori as I helped him sit up. “Where’s Miri? Is Míriel well?

“Drennal and Fallin have taken her to see the horses, _amrâlimê_. She is her sweet self.”

Perhaps he relaxed a little. “All right. Is it morn?”

“Very early, but yes. Do you feel feverish?”

He nodded. “And thirsty.”

Rhiannel looked at Niri. “Water, or tea?”

“Plain water for the moment.”

Rhiannel fetched a cup and brought it to Kili, then retreated to join Giriel at the hearth while Kili downed it thirstily. When he had drunk it all, I helped him take off his undertunic. The bandages wrapped around his torso were soaked with sweat, and those on his back were streaked with blood.

“This will hurt,” Niri warned him, as he untied the knots. “You can have more poppy, but Tauriel tells me that you don’t like it, so set your teeth.”

“No poppy,” Kili shook his head. “I want the dreams to stop.”

Niri was careful and slow, and, for the most part, the thick poultice he’d layered over Kili’s wounds kept the bandages from sticking. But under the poultice, the welts were still angry and swollen, and despite Niri’s gentleness, cleaning them was excruciating. Even the movement of the air against his torn skin was agonizing. I blinked back tears to see the ruin, but kept my voice quiet and soothing. Niri painstakingly painted lavender oil on the welts to help dull the pain, then renewed the poultice and the honey that prevented the wounds from souring. A clean wrap of bandage went over all. The ordeal was enough that Kili didn’t have the energy to protest when Niri slathered more of the lavender oil over most of his body. He lay flat on his stomach, clad only in smalls and bandages, too wrung out to put anything else on.

“Do you have willow bark tea?” Niri asked me, and I nodded. Rhiannel and Giriel were already looking through our baggage for the bark, “Good. Brew him a cup of that every two hours. In between, he can drink lots of plain water. He’s still dehydrated, and he needs the water to restore balance, and to help his skin heal the wounds. The willow bark tea won’t make him dream the way poppy will, and it’ll cool his fever. But it won’t dull the pain as well as poppy.”

“No poppy!” Kili said with surprising force. I might have smiled if he hadn’t been so ill.

“He won’t be riding or walking today,” Niri continued. “Tomorrow, either. What he needs is rest and calm, even after that fever breaks. Don’t make him talk unless he wants to. If he does, don’t let him wear himself out. And don’t talk at him to wear him out, either. Give him as much broth as he’ll take, then bread and porridge, if he wants it.”

“No visitors?” I asked without inflection, but the apothecary gave me a knowing wink.

“That’d be best. I’ll pass the word. Lady Dís be a strong dose for the well to take.”

I didn’t speak, but I ventured the smallest smile.

“Now, you come for me anytime he needs me. We’re not going anywhere for a bit, and I don’t have any other patients, so there’s no need for him to suffer. I thankee for the tea.”

Niri made his way out, waving off my thanks.

“Is he gone?” Kili asked, his voice muffled in his hair.

I smoothed his hair out of his eyes. “He is. I’ll braid your hair so it doesn’t touch your back.”

“That hurt.”

“It did. He put lavender oil on everything, and the willow bark tea is almost ready, so I hope the pain and fever will ease soon. Once you have the tea, you can try to sleep again.”

“I don’t like to sleep. The dreams...”

“The poppy has worn off, so it won’t give you dreams again. Sleep is what your body needs to heal.”

He didn’t say anything to that, so I waited until Giriel considered the willow bark tea ready, and took the small cup she handed me. I blew on it until it was cool enough to drink.

“I’ve got the tea ready, Kili.”

Kili levered himself up on his hands and knees, his breath catching several times as his skin pulled. He gingerly settled back on his heels, and took the cup from me to sip it. Even that little movement was painful.

“ _Miz barathar curp_ ,” he muttered under his breath. “What happened to me? I felt a lot better last night.”

“Last night, you were grateful to be rescued, and among friends, and you were well dosed with poppy,” I reminded him. “Today, euphoria gives way to exhaustion, and you feel your wounds much more.”

He sipped his tea in silence, looking at nothing. I went to the hearth, got a bowl of the broth, and brought it to him. “Are you hungry?”

He shook his head. “No, but I suppose I ought to put something in my belly. It’s not used to food.”

“Then it’s good to treat it well after so long doing without. Would you like bread, too?”

He took a piece of the lembas bread, and ate it in small, careful bites interspersed with sips of broth. As he ate, I gathered his hair in two long plaits, away from his back. The slow touches seemed to ease him, for he shut his eyes and relaxed under my hands. When he finished his bread and broth, however, he looked as tired as if he’d run half the day. He handed me the broth cup, and levered himself carefully down on his belly again. I helped him prop himself comfortably around folded blankets and towels, and he seemed easier. I took his hand, one of the rare parts of him that wasn’t hurt, and massaged it gently, hoping the touch would further ease him.

“I don’t want to dream,” he said. “If I start to dream, wake me up.”

“I will, _amrâlimê_. Try to sleep. I’ll be here with you.”

He closed his eyes as I kept stroking his hand. In a few moments, he fell asleep. I eased his hand down by his side, and gathered his teacup and bowl to wash.

“That was brutal,” Giriel whispered, glancing back at Kili. “I don’t know how he managed to keep from screaming. I’ve never seen anything as bad as what those Orcs did to him.”

“Nor I,” I agreed.

“At least we can put off his mother’s attempts to press him about Erebor,” Rhiannel exhaled. “Bless a Dwarvish apothecary for that.”

Giriel and I murmured heartfelt agreement. I wished there was something he could say that would make that permanent.

 

* * *

 

_“How is Kili, Niri? How soon will he be ready to move with us today?”_

_“That lad won’t be going anywhere today or tomorrow, Dís. Those Orcs cut him to the bone, and he’s feverish as well as in pain. He’s not eating much or sleeping, either, which he needs to do if he’s going to heal properly. So I told Tauriel to keep him quiet, help him eat and drink, and don’t agitate him.”_

_“I’ll offer to spell Tauriel –”_

_“Leave the lad alone, Dís. It’s not for you muck in it. The Valar know what he’s been through these past weeks, and he needs to find his way through it. If anyone can help him, it’s Tauriel and his bairn, and then the rest of the Elves.”_

_“You mean – did the Orcs...”_

_“They didn’t rape him, though how he managed to save himself from that I don’t know. But they bloody well did everything else.”_

_“Yet you said the Elves can help him more than his own people can?”_

_Niri nodded. “He’s bonded with that Woodland Elf, Dís, and there’s nothing you can do about it. The rest of the Rivendell folk are his friends – close friends. That’s more than a lot of our folk can say, and you know it. You know how many scrapes he and Fili passed off as mere brawling when it was really keeping Kili from bullies and dressing down the ones who made comments about who their father was. So leave him alone. Let him heal without making a stir about everything else.”_

_“You’ve got your nerve speaking to me about how to treat my family.”_

_Niri grinned. “Apothecary’s privilege.”_

_Dís sniffed. “I’ll leave him alone, then.”_

_“See that you do. Or I’ll slip the poppy Kili won’t take into your tea.”_

_“He won’t take the poppy? But the pain –”_

_“He says it gives him bad dreams. He’s likely got enough of them already, so I didn’t push him. If he wants it, he knows he can have it.”_

_As Niri left Dís’s tent, she shook her head. What dreams were so bad that a Dwarf would bear that much pain rather than ease it?_

_The answer was daunting._


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Kili does a little healing, Drennal has a fan club, and Tauriel plays a little more chess. The queen is the most powerful piece on the board, after all :-).
> 
> Hope you enjoy the antelope skewers!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> Amin late, mellonea nin. Diola lle. = I am honored, my friends. Thank you.  
> Lle creoso = You’re welcome.

I didn’t want to sleep. Even to get away from the dragon’s fire raging over my back, I didn’t want to sleep. Dreams lurked in my sleep that I couldn’t escape, visions that hurt as much as my wounds did. But I was so tired, and hurting so much exhausted me further, so sleep pulled me under as surely as if I were caught in an ocean whirlpool. Into the blackness I floundered, to face two Orcs looming and circling, waiting for me to venture one inch too far from Grimmaz. And what of her? She was as imprisoned as I was. I wondered how they’d come to have her. Warg matriarchs were prized and well cared for. Why wasn’t Grimmaz? I wasn’t going to ask Krugnash or Berqk, but I would try to care for her as well as she cared for me.

A stir of movement, right beside me –

“Grimmaz! Fuck off, you bloody Orcs!”

“Kili? _A’maelamin_?”

I swam out of the blackness, my body on fire. I barely felt the small, small touch on my shoulder –

“Grimmaz! Ware the Orc –!”

“Rest, Kili. You are safe. I am here with you.”

Oh, Valar, Valar, Valar, it had been another dream. It was Tauriel’s calming hand on my shoulder, Tauriel’s soft voice in my ears. Krugnash and Berqk were dead, and Grimmaz was free of them as well as I. This was the Orc Spawn’s tent, and there was the fire, and there was Tauriel beside me with Míriel. I’d only been dreaming.

Everything hurt. Valar, everything hurt more than anything ever had before. I was afraid to move, but given how much everything already hurt, I shifted a little. It didn’t hurt that much more.

Oh, _miz barathar curp_ , I desperately needed the necessary. The very thought of moving that far was excruciating. I gathered my courage.

“Tauriel –”

“Yes, Kili.”

“I need the necessary. I don’t think I can get there by myself.”

“Not to worry, _a’maelamin_. I have a basin for you so you don’t have to go outside.”

I was embarrassed to have to say it, but forced myself to. “I’ll need help.”

“You will have it. Would you rather I help you, or Rhiannel and Fallin?”

“The lads. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. They’re right here. I’ll take Míriel outside until you’re done.”

I got my eyes open. Tauriel put a clean basin within reach, and touched my cheek before she retreated. Fallin and Rhiannel knelt beside me, one on either side. Between the three of us, we managed the deed, but I needed both of them to hold me up during the proceedings. Still, I felt better empty, and was grateful to my comrades for their help, which they provided without any teasing. Sometimes, Elves were a lot kinder than Dwarves. They eased my smalls up, and helped me arrange myself back on my heels. My back was still painful, but the little bit of movement had eased my stuff joints. The light in the tent was a grace, too, for the bottom flaps of the tent were up to catch the steppe breeze as well as the light, and that helped to dissipate the memory of my dark dreams. Tauriel came back with the clean basin in one hand and Míriel on her hip to settle beside me.

“You slept several hours,” Tauriel said encouragingly, setting Míriel between us on her bottom. The babe looked up at me, chirped, and patted my thigh. “You were still restless, but not as much.”

“ _Barathar_ dreams,” I muttered, taking Míriel’s fingers. “It’d be a right blessing not to have to sleep right now, like you Elves.”

Tauriel hummed in commiseration. “If it would help to speak of them, I am here to listen. I am here for whatever would ease you. You have only to tell me.”

“Or any of the rest of us,” Rhiannel added, looking over from the hearth. “We are your friends, and offer whatever you need, Kili.”

“Of course we do.” Giriel had ducked inside our tent soon enough to hear Rhiannel’s offer. “The Orc Spawn takes care of its own.”

That put a lump in my throat. “ _Amin late, mellonea nin_. _Diola lle.”_

 _“Lle creoso,”_ came back the soft chorus.

“Are you hungry?” Tauriel offered. “We have broth, and I think something more solid is coming, if you would like that, yes?”

Giriel grinned at Tauriel’s question. “Drennal and I have been hunting this morning with a few of the Dwarves. We’ve got some more antelope, so we’ll have stew and such for supper, but Drennal’s slicing one of the small ones for luncheon skewers. She’s gotten quite a following.”

I ventured a chuckle and nodded at Fallin. “Better watch those Dwarf lads, Fallin. They’re liable to consider an Elf maid who cooks as well as fights as a prime candidate for a bride.”

Fallin had a smug look on his face. “I have no fear of that happening, despite your example. Our Míriel will have a playmate come next year.”

My jaw dropped. “Truth?”

He nodded. “Truth.”

I’d never heard such pride, wonder, and smugness wrapped around a single word. I laughed despite the pain, and happily so. “Well done, both of you! That’s the best news! _Comys_ _thoyn_ , Orc Spawn!”

Giriel laughed. “Pay up, Fallin. I told you Kili would curse when you told him.”

“You pay up. I told you he’d be delighted about it.”

“What is this? Elves betting? As well as making bairns?”

“And cursing, too. You are a corrupting influence, Kili,” Tauriel shook her head and looked at me with mock sternness.

“You’re no better,” I shot back happily. “Teaching Elf maids to fight and ride around hunting with Dwarves. I couldn’t be happier about being a corrupting influence.”

“So shall I bring a lot of skewered antelope?” Giriel asked enticingly. “You should smell it, Kili. It’s enough to make me want a big plate full!”

“It sounds very, very good,” I agreed.

Fallin got up. “Then I’d better help you carry it all back, Giriel. And remind those Dwarves that they’ll have to find their own Elf maid.”

As he ducked out, I gave Rhiannel a raised eyebrow. “Are you and Giriel next?”

Tauriel rolled her eyes at my directness, but Rhiannel’s grin was unperturbed. “It is very hard to get Giriel to hold still, but it is fun to encourage her to try.”

Oh, it was good to laugh again, despite my torn skin. “Oh, she’s one of those, is she?”

“She is quite enamored of racing across the steppe. Do you remember we’re going to have a steppe festival? We will hold it off until we can move closer to the river, but until then, Giriel’s organizing some races. We’ll have Dwarves on rams and Elves on horses on each team to foster camaraderie. Giriel can’t wait.”

I nodded. “Then what you do is make sure you’re on a team, too. Then after the racing is done, claim you’re sore after so much mad tearing around, and see if you can get her to –”

“I think Rhiannel knows what to do next,” Tauriel insinuated, smothering a laugh.

“It is a good plan,” Rhiannel gave me an amused smile. Whether the expression was due to my suggestion, Tauriel’s sense of decorum, or the idea of enticing Giriel, I couldn’t say, but I’d wager it was all three. “And well worth trying.”

“The races will be fun to watch, too,” Tauriel commented, rolling Míriel’s squeaky ball back to her.

“They would. A good distraction from bad dreams.” And fiery wounds, but I didn’t say that. “When do they start?”

“Not until later,” Tauriel said serenely, which didn’t fool me for a moment. She didn’t want to tell me outright that I couldn’t go out to watch them, so she was about to offer reasons why I needed to rest, eat, sleep, and on and on. “First is luncheon, and then rest. After that, several of the Dwarves and Fallin and Drennal will scout ahead to find the Mitheithel River, and to replenish our water until we can move there. Then we will see about races, and supper.”

I hummed. “So likely tomorrow.”

“Likely.”

I snorted. “I’ve said this before, Tauriel. You are a terrible liar.”

Rhiannel laughed openly, and Tauriel was unabashed.

“It does no good to tell you plainly that you need to rest and restore yourself, because you do not listen,” she shrugged, taking up Míriel to hug. “So I tell you the needs of our comrades, and hope that they make sense so that you rest and restore yourself for their sakes, if not your own.”

Grumbling, I conceded her point. “I suppose that apothecary’s ready to add fuel to your fire, isn’t he?”

“Do not fault the apothecary. Niri does you a great service. He has banned your mother from pestering you until you are better.”

“I suddenly feel very weak,” I teased. “Very, very weak.”

“You probably do,” Tauriel replied without hesitation. “But it is my opinion that wearing you out a little, as long as we do not hurt you, is good because it will help you sleep with more ease.”

I sobered. “That’d be a blessing, right enough. I don’t understand. I know I’m here, not back there. In the light, it seems all right. Then it’s dark, and...”

“You remember,” Rhiannel said simply. “Perhaps it would help to keep a lamp lit nearby, so that it is not dark.”

I thought that sounded too much like a bairn suffering from night terrors, but then again... I _was_ suffering from night terrors. Maybe a lamp would help, given that it wouldn’t disturb my comrades who didn’t sleep.

“Perhaps it would help to make you a leaning frame, so sitting is not so uncomfortable,” Tauriel said. “I thought that if we took the pack horse frame, and put several blankets over it, you could lean over it, which might be easier than putting all your weight on your legs.”

“That is another good plan,” Rhiannel agreed, rising. “Here, let us try.”

He and Tauriel set up the frame and draped three of the horses’ thick woolly saddle pads over it, then a blanket, and arranged it in the end of my space closest to the center hearth. I managed to get off my heels and draped myself over the frame. It was a relief to change positions, and into a more comfortable one, at that. I had few wounds on my chest and belly, and the healing skin on my neck that the chain had galled raw didn’t rest against the blanket. I could also move my arms without pulling the skin on my back so much.

“Better, thank you!” I pronounced it.

We were interrupted when Drennal, Giriel, and Fallin returned to our tent with two big platters of skewered antelope, a pot of porridge, and a covered kettle of broth. They moved things around so that our center circle included me. Bowls, spoons, and cups came out; Míriel was moved between Tauriel and me so as not to be tempted to roll into the food; and someone passed me a skewer. Luncheon was on.

“Delicious!” I saluted Drennal with my empty skewer. “No wonder the Dwarf lads fancy you, Drennal. You’ve turned into quite a cook.”

She laughed as quietly as usual, but without the shyness that she had shown at the start of our journey. “Your kinsmen are kind to share their recipes.”

“They’ll share ones they make up on the spot, just to talk to you,” I teased. “Even the ones who can’t cook a goblet of water.”

That sparked quiet laughter, and conversation lapsed as we enjoyed the delicious, crisp skewers. They were good dipped in the warm broth, too, and my stomach relaxed to be full of solid food again. Tauriel put a big cup of willow bark tea by my hand, and a whole square of lembas bread.

“If I eat any more, I’ll look like Miri’s squeaky ball,” I protested.

“You need it,” Giriel declared. “I can count your ribs through your bandages, Kili. Didn’t those Orcs feed you anything?”

Everyone fell silent. The Elves exchanged looks, and Giriel’s face fell. “I am sorry, Kili. I did not mean to remind you of them. We are all relieved and happy to have you back with us.”

Gandalf may think that Elves don’t care about the outside world. He was right in some sense, but about their own business, Elves were nosy as well as notorious gossips. It must have killed my friends not to ask me about what I’d been through, but they’d done it because they were my friends, and had not wanted to push me until I was ready. Most of them paid attention to their plates, though Tauriel looked at me with sympathy, and Rhiannel offered an encouraging smile.

I took a careful, deep breath. “I’m glad to be back with you again, too. I owe you my life for coming after me, and getting me away. So... if I owe anyone the story, it’s all of you. I’ll tell you, if you want to know. But some of it’s... fucking awful.”

“You don’t have to speak unless you want to,” Tauriel said. “Speak only if it will help you, not because we are curious.”

I gave them a wry smile. “If I don’t tell about the Warg, Giriel may slap me.”

Everyone laughed, so apparently I had called that one correctly. The Elf maid tried to look contrite, but failed miserably. “I mean no insult or disparagement, Kili. But you _rode a Warg_. A _matriarch_! That was...”

“The best part,” I finished, when she didn’t know what to say. “So... here is how it began...”

I told them about being strapped to Grimmaz’s back, and not waking up for four days. I told them about the first night I woke up, being basted in blood, and tethered between the three Wargs. I told them about Grimmaz whelping, and Berqk’s groping. Then I told them what Berqk had started to do after that, while Krugnash had been busy killing Grimmaz’s pups.

“Oh, Valar, Kili!” Tauriel gasped, her hands covering her mouth.

I swallowed. “Krugnash pulled him off before he got any further, and they had a fight as bad as you can imagine. When I scrabbled out of the way, I realized that if I ran, they’d track me down and do their worst. Then I saw Grimmaz nosing her dead pups, whining. So... I rolled in the afterbirth, and whimpered like one of the pups, thinking that if I were about to die, better by the teeth of a Warg than under a buggering Orc. The smell of the blood made her think I was one of the pups. So when the Orcs stopped fighting and came after me, Grimmaz wouldn’t let them near. I suppose she knew who had killed her pups, and she wouldn’t let them kill the last one, no matter how odd a pup I was. She licked me clean, and then she fed me, and –”

“She... fed you?” Giriel gaped, her eyes wide.

“The Orcs forced water down my throat when I was strapped to Grimmaz, unconscious. But after that, Grimmaz’s milk was the only thing I had to eat or drink, until yesterday.”

“Valar!” Drennal was shocked.

“I bless her,” Tauriel said, who was not shocked. That was my warrior Elf maid, as staunch as Fili. “She saved your life.”

“That was only the first of many, many times.”

I told them about grooming her fur, naming her, trying to ease her in return for caring for me, and how she’d quelled the two males. I told them about Berqk’s constant harassment, Krugnash’s cruelty when Tauriel had tried to rescue me, and the taunts about killing Tauriel that had finally roused me from my stupor. Rhiannel told his side of the Warg fight where I destroyed Berqk’s arrows, and how Krugnash had been enraged enough to flog me nearly to death. As hard as it was to tell the story, some of the horror eased away when I did, because I began to understand that it was in the past, and I was once more among friends.

I finished with yesterday morning, when Grimmaz and I had ended our captivity with the help of my friends and my mother’s Dwarvish archers and axe men. When I was done, my friends sat silent, the remnants of lunch forgotten as they absorbed my tale.

“The worst was when I couldn’t remember what Míriel looked like,” I confessed. “I barely remembered you, Tauriel. You both were like a dream that vanished quicker the harder I tried to recall you. I couldn’t remember anything else, either, but that was the worst part.”

Tauriel looked down, her eyes shut. Drennal leaned over to clasp her hand. “Kili is safe with us again, _osellë._ Don’t despair any more.”

I looked between them. Giriel sniffed loudly, but she tried to disguise it as exasperation. “She was a right pain, Kili. Worrying about you until she nearly grieved herself to death. But we brought her around. Someone had to feed Míriel, after all.”

Our bairn chose that moment to crow in triumph. She’d gotten her hands on a skewer and was happily gumming the meaty bit. Her hands and face were smeared with grease, and her gown was close behind.

“Oh, Míriel!” Tauriel exclaimed, taking the skewer from her as everyone else laughed. “You’ll choke, and if you don’t, you’ll put out an eye with the skewer!”

“She misses her _Taad’s_ messy fingers,” I chuckled. “Don’t you, Míriel?”

“Then give her your messy fingers,” Tauriel plunked our daughter down in front of my leaning frame. “I don’t want to clean her but once. She doesn’t have many clean gowns left. When we move to the river, I’ll have a mountain of her things to wash.”

“It will be good to be clean again,” Fallin exhaled. “But that will come in a few days, once Kili has healed enough.”

“He needs to rest to help that along,” Tauriel prompted.

“Oh, do you need to rest just yet?” Giriel asked me guiltily. “Tell me what it was like to ride Grimmaz, Kili.”

“It was hard, most of the time, but that wasn’t her fault. I was atop her first thing in the morning, and stayed there until the Orcs stopped at night. As long as I was astride, they couldn’t reach me, because Grimmaz wouldn’t let them approach. But I went the whole day without eating or drinking, and it was hard to stay in the same crouch all day without cramping.”

“But yesterday...”

“Yesterday was different.”

“You and she were one,” Rhiannel said simply. “We all saw it. You were she, and she you, and together you avenged a mort of horrors.”

I nodded. “We were, and we did. For both of us. She was as much prisoner as I was, and I’m glad she’s free.”

“I wish I could have ridden her, just once,” Giriel said in a wistful tone.

“There, what did I tell you?” Tauriel threw up her hands. “I knew you’d want to, Giriel, but Kili promised me that he would not teach you or anyone else how to ride a Warg!”

“I said I’d think about promising,” I protested, “but I didn’t actually promise.”

“Considering how you convinced Grimmaz to let you ride her, Kili, I don’t think such a chance will present itself again,” Fallin laughed.

“Unless we found some Warg pups, and raised them ourselves,” Giriel countered.

“I’m not going to look for any,” I avowed. “That I can promise you!”

Giriel sighed, her enthusiasm in no way stifled. “It was just an idea. Still...”

“Still, Kili needs to rest, and some of us need to go with the Dwarves to the river,” Tauriel prompted.

“Me for the river,” Giriel replied. “Who else is going?”

Rhiannel opted for the river expedition, while Drennal and Fallin were joining some of the Dwarves to plan games for our festival. They shared out the cleaning chores, went about them quickly, and then dispersed, leaving me with Tauriel and Míriel.

“You didn’t have to forgo the games or the river trip if you wanted to go,” I said.

Tauriel busied herself making more tea. “We will all get to the river in a few days. And the games will progress in their time, too. I am glad to stay with you after missing you for so long.”

I shifted a bit against my leaning frame. Despite myself, I was getting sleepy again. “I feel guilty about forgetting you and Míriel. I wanted to remember both of you so much.”

Tauriel poured out another cup of tea and brought it to me. “What you endured would have killed most folk, Kili. Take heart in your survival, and don’t worry about the depths you had to visit to do so.”

“More tea for me to drink?”

“More willow bark tea, yes. Because you still hurt, yes?”

I sighed with reluctance. “Yes, I do. So I’ll drink it without making you fuss.”

“Good,” she said tartly. Then she stroked my hair. “That was brave of you, to tell us what happened.”

“I told you; you all saved my life. The least I could do was tell you what you saved me from. I hope you’re not angry that I didn’t tell you everything first.”

“Of course not. I was proud of you for honoring Rhiannel, Giriel, Drennal, and Fallin, as well as me. I hope the telling will ease your dreams.”

“We’ll soon find out. I can’t believe I’m tired already.”

“Can I help you lie down?”

I grimaced. “I’m afraid I have to use the necessary again. But I think I can walk there if I can lean on you, and if it’s not too far.”

“The basin is clean, so you don’t have to walk.”

“But I think I want to. I’m very stiff, and maybe moving just that bit will help me rest easier.”

Tauriel’s hunter look crossed her face, which surprised me.

“You look like you plot strategy, _amrâlimê_.”

She flicked me a considering glance, then smiled. “So I do, _a’maelamin_. You know that if you walk outside, even just to the necessary, your mother will likely come to you.”

I sighed. “Not likely, but surely.”

“Can you bear that? I will make sure she does not venture into anything we don’t want.”

“I could just use the basin. So tell me why you think I shouldn’t.”

“Can you bear putting on your trousers and slippers?”

“I think so.”

“Then I think it would be good for your mother to see you. It would reassure her. But I suggest you go without your shirt to cover your bandages, to encourage her to keep your meeting brief and innocuous.”

I regarded her wryly. “You are every bit the chess player she said you were.”

When Tauriel smiled, I had the distinct impression that this brief visit to the necessary was not the only move she made in the game she played with my mother, but I didn’t ask. When Tauriel was ready, she’d tell me the rest. So I let her slip on my pants, then my slippers, while I leaned on my frame. Together we got me to my feet, and Tauriel put Míriel on her hip. Then we walked slowly and carefully out of the tent into the daylight.

Sure enough, I spotted _Maamr_ talking with some of the Dwarves by one of the cook fires. She turned to spot us, and I held up a hand in greeting, the one not holding on to Tauriel to steady me. _Maamr_ had the grace to leave me alone until I had visited the necessary, and had begun my slow way back to our tent. Then she came over to walk beside us.

“Kili, it’s good to see you on your feet, if only for a few minutes. I hope you’re feeling better.”

“Much better than yesterday. Tauriel’s taking very good care of me.”

“Good. Niri told me that it’s important for you to rest.”

“I have been, and I will again in just a few moments. You are well, _Maamr_?”

“I’m well. Tauriel, is there anything I can do to help either of you? Take Miri for a while so you can rest, too?”

Tauriel smiled warmly at my mother. “I think she would like very much to see her _Gabilmaamr_. What do you think, Míriel?”

Míriel laughed and waved her hands, proclaiming her happiness with the day. _Maamr_ held her hands out, and Míriel leaned towards her, so Tauriel put her into _Maamr’s_ arms. “I’ll give you a clean diaper and gown in case she needs them.”

“A good idea,” Maamr agreed, and came with us to the tent. Several of the Dwarves came over to speak, so it was a few minutes before we got inside. I was glad to see them, but my legs were shaking by the time we ducked inside. _Maamr_ came inside with us, and watched how carefully Tauriel helped me ease down onto my heels. I didn’t pretend to need her support – my back was still burning, if a hair less, and walking just the short distance to the necessary had used up what strength I had. In fact, I was tired enough that I didn’t feel quite so apprehensive about sleeping. I lay on my belly quietly while Tauriel found the clean diaper and gown for _Maamr_ to take for Míriel, grateful that breathing hurt a bit less now than it had this morning.

“Rest well, my Kili,” my mother wished me, stooping beside me. She stroked my hair, and kissed my temple. “Rest well, and heal.”

“I will, _Maamr_.”

When she was gone with Míriel in her arms, Tauriel came to sit by me. She slipped off my slippers and pants for me, and helped me arrange myself on folded blankets until I was as comfortable as I could be. Then she put her back against my leaning frame, within reach if I needed her.

“I’ll be here. Don’t worry.”

I shut my eyes. How could I worry when a fierce Elf warrior maid sat beside me? No nightmare had a chance against her.


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Kili is slowly on the mend. Tauriel considers her chess game, which impresses Kili no end. And at long last, the company is back on the move. Hope you enjoy the plotting and the plodding!

Kili went to sleep almost immediately, so tired was he. Having luncheon, telling his amazing tale, and walking just the few yards to the necessary had worn him out thoroughly. He was still in a great deal of pain, too, but between his Dwarvish constitution and his cheerful spirit, he bore it as best anyone could. It was a relief that he didn’t seem feverish, and I hoped that the good food and rest would keep that at bay.

When his breathing deepened, I took out our sewing supplies and moved some of the lacings on a few of Míriel’s gowns. She had grown enough that the smallest gowns were too tight, so adjusting the side laces would give her more room until we reached Imladris.

I would be glad to be home. We weren’t far, now; at our fastest speed, we'd need perhaps a day or two to reach the Mitheithel River, and perhaps another three or four days more to reach Imladris. If Kili recovered enough in the next few days, we would travel slowly to the river, have our steppe festival, and then move on across our own plain and then to home. So, perhaps in a week or a bit more, we would see our home again.

I had many things to consider before then, and that is what I did while I sewed Míriel’s gowns and watched over Kili.

Drennal and Fallin came in as the afternoon grew late. Both were flushed from their games with the Dwarves, and talked quietly but enthusiastically about watching the battle rams race about the steppe. Drennal had a new admirer in the Dwarf who oversaw the rams’ care, asking knowledgeable questions of him, and listening to the answers (not a habit all Elves used when talking to mortals, I regretted to say). Fallin’s easy grace as a leader allowed him to shrug off the Dwarves’ rough humor, and his association with Kili allowed him to return their friendly curses with our own, so both of our comrades had gotten on well.

Giriel and Rhiannel returned later with news about the river. We were just a few hours away, so as soon as Kili was able, we would be able to move there easily. This would make for a more hospitable camp for our steppe festival, given the abundance of water for drinking, washing, and cooking. The riverbanks also featured a greater variety of plants, as well, which meant we Elves would have the fresh greens we had missed for so long.

The stir of Elves coming and going roused Kili. He flinched when I touched his arm, but I was quick to reassure him and he calmed much more quickly than he had earlier. His sleep had been much more restful, as well, which relieved me. If we could ease his sleep and strengthen his body with a steady supply of good food and medicine, his own natural Dwarvish vigor would work to heal him quickly. To that end, I made sure he had a big bowl of the stew that the Dwarves had had simmering all afternoon, a hefty slab of roasted antelope, and even some of the greens that Rhiannel had collected from the river. Several cups of water and the willow bark tea washed down the lot. Fallin and Rhiannel helped him make the trip to the necessary, and he was able to walk with me to his mother’s tent to collect Míriel. Afterwards, we took Kili and his leaning frame with us to one of the Dwarvish fires, where we shared out the last of our dried fruits for a finish to supper, and chatted about nothing of consequence with the Dwarves. The stars were bright overhead when we went back to our tent. Kili seemed more at peace as he bedded down, and I silently thanked the Valar.

The next morning Kili woke in a sweat. He’d suffered more dreams, but he rallied quickly and seemed determined to put them behind him. Still, I wasn’t sure if he still suffered from a fever, or if his dreams had been the cause of his heat. Niri came to tend his wounds, which still looked awful, but I was consoled that they were no longer bleeding, and even the worst stripes had begun to close. The apothecary carefully cleaned and oiled each welt, and replaced the cooling poultice and bandages. Again, the process was painful enough to leave Kili limp, but he bore it bravely, and was grateful for Niri’s care despite the discomfort.

When I escorted Niri out of our tent, he gave me a concerned look, which instantly worried me.

“What is it, Niri? Are Kili’s wounds not faring well?”

“Oh, they’re coming along as well as they could for anyone, Tauriel,” he assured me. “But they’re still painful enough to wear him to a thread. I understand why he doesn’t want the poppy, and I won’t ask him to take it. The lavender oil seems to help ease him, but I don’t have much of that left. Enough for another day or so, but no more.”

I hummed. “I understand. Do you think Kili can begin to make his way towards the river?”

Niri considered. “Except for his back, his wounds have healed well. He’s not feverish. He may be able to sit a horse without too much discomfort, but I wouldn’t ask him to do it for long, because the movement will likely make his back hurt. So it’s up to him to decide if he wants to go or not. If he does and we don’t reach the river today, it will do no harm to camp another night on the steppe. But what does that have to do with my supply of lavender oil?”

“I think it is prudent that all of us remain together until we reach the river. After that, an Elvish horse can reach Imladris in less than two days. Two of us can travel to the city for supplies while the rest of us rest by the river and have our steppe festival. We can carry a list of what you need us to bring back, or you can go with us to choose the best things from the apothecary stores.”

Niri nodded. “That’s a good plan. Better than all of us shoving forward that fast. Some of the rams need the rest after so many weeks at such a pace, and pushing Kili that hard would be foolish. If that Giriel wants to fly across the steppe for that long, let her. She’d consider it a treat!”

I laughed. “So she would. I’ll speak to her about it once we start for the river.”

“And I’ll make you a list. The Rivendell apothecary is something I want to see, but I don’t think I can hang on to an Elvish horse going as fast as Giriel’s likely to go for the fun of it, never mind need.”

“I’ll escort you to the apothecary stores myself when we get to Imladris,” I promised.

“I’ll hold you to that, Tauriel,” Niri grinned. “Nobody’s as curious as a Dwarvish apothecary about new remedies!”

He bade me farewell, and I returned to the tent. Kili was draped over his leaning frame, head down, eyes shut. Míriel looked up at him in concern, patting at the leaning frame.

“I’m sorry that was so painful, Kili,” I stroked his hair. “You look exhausted.”

He didn’t speak for a moment. “I’ve never had anything hurt like this before. It feels like my whole back is burning up with dragon fire.”

“The lavender oil doesn’t help?”

“Oh, it helps some. Any help is something. But...”

“But it’s still terrible. When Giriel rides for Imladris, I’ll tell her to ask the apothecary for something that can numb the pain. Maybe there is something.”

Kili opened his eyes and looked up. “Giriel’s riding for Imladris?”

“Eventually. Not until we reach the river.”

“When do we reach the river?”

“Not until you’re able to ride. You can’t walk from here to there, so when you can sit a horse for a few hours at a time, we’ll begin to move east.”

“Why is Giriel going to Imladris if we’re that close?”

“Because Niri’s running out of the lavender oil that eases your back. Likely there are other things that can ease you besides poppy, too, so given our mad Elf maid’s penchant for racing across the land, she’ll get to indulge herself and replenish our medical supplies at the same time.”

Kili shut his eyes and lay his head on the leaning frame. “Why else is she going to Imladris?”

“That’s reason enough.”

“You’ve had your hunting face on too many times in the past two days, Tauriel. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. So why else is she going to Imladris?”

“In this moment, _a’maelamin_ , for no other reason. Though I grant you that by the time she does leave, there will probably be others. I await developments.”

Kili looked up at me with a knowing smile. “So you _are_ playing chess with my mother, aren’t you? I knew it.”

“I hope she does not know it.”

Kili snickered. “You are ruthless, _amrâlimê_. Maneuvering in a game against an unaware opponent isn’t fair play.”

“I did not recover you from Orcs only to lose you to a legacy you do not want and makes no sense, given Dain Ironfoot’s able rule. That is the game I play, and I will use any means short of murder to win it. If you have changed your mind, tell me now, and I will give up the game –”

“I have _not_ changed my mind,” Kili held up his hands in emphasis, then propped his elbows up on the leaning frame and put his chin in his hands. “And I promised you we would return to our life in Imladris. That is a promise I will keep to both of us. And Míriel.”

“I thank you, _a’maelamin_.”

“I thank you for loving me, saving me, taking such good care of me, and wanting to keep me despite all the trouble I cause you. I am the most blessed of Dwarves. Now, tell me what you are plotting.”

Despite his pain, Kili’s eyes were dancing with mischief. I met his grin with my own, but then sobered. “You will forgive me, please, Kili. Some of what I say will not be polite.”

“Then the least you can do is bring me a bowl of porridge to salve my hurt feelings,” he asked.

“Are you hungry, or eating because you think you must?”

He considered. “I _am_ hungry, amazing as that might sound. I am.”

My smile was relieved. “That’s good. I’m glad. So porridge it is. And tea.”

As I spooned out the porridge, I told Kili about the Dwarves’ conversations the Orc Spawn had overheard, replete with Half-Elven Prince Kili and Erebor and kingship. Kili grimaced as he dipped a finger in his porridge and held it out to Míriel.

“ _Miz barathar curp,”_ he muttered under his breath as Míriel crowed with glee and latched on to his finger to sample the porridge.

“If that means ‘into the abyss with politics,’ I agree with you,” I replied. “Kili, eat some of that yourself. Míriel’s not ready to eat solid food yet, and you need the porridge more than she does.”

“She likes it, and I like seeing her happy, and it’ll help her grow strong,” he protested mildly, giving Míriel another finger of porridge, which she gummed with enthusiasm. “See? She’s quite happy with a taste of her _Taad’s_ porridge.”

“Here, Míriel,” I said, gathering our babe up to suckle her. “Leave Kili a little of his breakfast.”

“So you heard a lot of blather about me and the kingship, and neither you nor I want me to be a king,” Kili prompted, eating his porridge. “You answer to that is what?”

“Your mother will not consider what you want if all we give her are personal reasons – you claim unfitness to rule, you don’t want to rule, you married me, and so on. She can dismiss such claims too easily as youthful insecurity or selfishness. So we must convince Dís that it is a political advantage to your folk if you stay in Imladris.”

He nodded. “I made several such points to her when we talked in Thorin’s Halls.”

“I did as well. She admitted that both of us made good points. But they are still easy points for her to dismiss because it is merely us who said them. So we must get someone with more authority to say them, too.”

Kili looked askance at me. “So who is Giriel to bring from Imladris who has more authority to say those things?”

“Giriel and one other. We may be in Lord Elrond’s realm once we reach the river, but it is still not safe to send just one of us to Imladris.”

“So who else is going? Fallin, because he leads the Orc Spawn, or Rhiannel, because he’s our diplomat?”

“I would prefer Rhiannel, but I haven’t asked him yet.”

“You want the diplomat, then, because of who you’re asking to come back here, who is...?”

I took a deep breath. This was the part of the plan that I could not control.

“Oh, Valar, Tauriel! You’re not going to ask them to speak to Lord Elrond, are you?”

I watched Míriel happily suckling, and sighed.

“I appreciate the thought, Tauriel, but Lord Elrond? Why in all of Middle Earth would he travel two days across the plain after a Dwarvish émigré who cavorted in his sacred fountains and threw custard cakes at him?”

I sighed again. “Because I hope to give Rhiannel and Giriel reasons to convince him that it is a political advantage for him to do so, of course.”

He regarded me askance. “I’m a reckless Dwarf, but you’re a right gambler, maid, if you think Lord Elrond would find any political advantage to keeping the likes of me.”

My smile waxed with more confidence. “This is where being an Elf stands me in good stead. I understand the rigors of long lives, long associations, and long duties.”

“Meaning what?”

“If this works, Kili, it won’t be painless for you. You will have new duties, but for Lord Elrond, not for Erebor.”

“Lord Elrond’s got Lindir to do things for him. He doesn’t need a Dwarf.”

I smothered laughter. “Having Lindir is one of the things that I hope will bring Lord Elrond here. Can you imagine how Lindir will react when he hears that a steady procession of Dwarves is about to make its way to Imladris, a procession that will likely take years, a procession that he must oversee?”

Kili understood the cruel implications immediately – at least they would be cruel for an overly precise, overly eager, overly proper Elf aide.

“So offering me up to oversee the Dwarves’ passage through the city for Lord Elrond and sparing poor Lindir is your first gambit. That won’t be enough.”

“Likely not. But having a Dwarf who speaks Quenya, Common Tongue, and _Khazuduhl_ to help negotiate trade agreements is – one who understands both Elvish and Dwarvish ways to help avoid misunderstandings. One who can suggest new ideas for trade and commerce that Elves would not think of, and represent trading partners that Dwarves would not approach.”

“All the things you and I both told _Maamr_ ,” he mused. “That’s good, but maybe still not enough.”

“Then here is the impoliteness I spoke of. Forgive me for it. I ask only to see what leverage we have with your folk.”

“Ask anything, _amrâlimê_.”

“Do you know anything about who your father was? Could he have been Elvish, as the rumors claim?”

Kili was unbothered. “Nothing. I never asked, _Maamr_ never said, and I never cared.”

“I don’t care, either. But if he were found to be Elvish, would that affect your right to rule? Do your folk require pure blood to rule?”

Kili considered that. “A good question. I don’t know. We’ve never had anyone in the line who wasn’t pure blood before.”

“Do you know if there are any chronicles of your folk in Imladris? Anything Rhiannel could consult to find out the rules of governance?”

“I don’t think so.” He grinned impudently. “I wonder what would happen if I asked _Maamr_?”

“I do not suggest this to be cruel to your mother; only to consider implications. What would happen if you claimed your father was Elvish, and took the position that being half-Elven and half-Dwarvish removed you from the line of ascension?”

“Also interesting,” he chuckled. “How fitting would it be if all the name-calling I endured as a lad ended up thwarting my mother’s push to make me king?”

“Even if your mother disputed your claim, she would have to name your father. Unless others could vouch for her, you could still use your appearance to cast enough doubt to remove you from the throne. This path would be ignoble at best, and would be cruel to Dís. I prefer not to venture there. But if there is no other way, I will.”

Kili put his empty bowl down, and took the tea I handed him. “I don’t like that way, either. But if _Maamr_ won’t see reason...” He made a face. “That would be a nasty way to keep Dain on the throne and me off it.”

“Is it something you would do if there were no other way?”

He grimaced again. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I didn’t go through all of this just to call scandal down on her. That would be a dishonorable thing to do.”

I nodded acceptance. “Agreed. So for now, we will do nothing until we reach the river. When we do, I will ask Giriel and Rhiannel to race ahead to the city, collect the medicines you need, and ask to see Lord Elrond.”

Kili’s wince was painful, but I think he recalled episodes involving fountains and cream cakes than suffered from his wounds. “Do you really think the threat to Lindir will move him?”

I shrugged. “I cannot be sure. But I will offer more enticement than offering to spare his aide from the raucousness of Dwarves, or make trade agreements. Your mother is a counselor and ruler of your people, and Lord Elrond could make a kind gesture to ride out to meet a fellow ruler. He might also see the benefit to Elves akin to the Orc Spawn who would like a diversion.”

Kili’s expression was mystified. “What sort of diversion?”

I grinned. “Our steppe festival. It would be more festive if we had more guests, yes? Oteriel might see the benefit of war games held with an ally. Others might like a diversion from the typical summer day in the city. And others, like Giriel, will simply find it fun.”

Kili nodded slowly. “Rhiannel could make a strong case for any of those. Maybe this will work.”

“I hope so. Until then, _amrâlimê_ , we must help you heal, so that we can start for the river.”

Kili looked more animated than he had since his rescue. “Maybe I can ride a few miles today. Even if it’s just a few, it will help.”

“We’ll see when you visit the necessary. If that is not too hard, then we can see how it is to sit a horse.”

He nodded.

“One more thing,” I asked.

Kili’s expression was amused. “Yes, beautiful counselor, and power behind my throne?”

“When we ride, I expect your mother to consider that a public act, and she will want to talk with you as we travel. I advise that we do not try to prevent this.”

“You couldn’t, anyway. _Maamr_ is a force of nature.”

“So is water. It flows around obstacles. That is what you must do.”

“How?”

“Your mother considers you a child still. She does not see you as an adult yet. So you must act like an adult, no matter how hard that is. Do not let her bully you. You can show her respect at the same time you answer with consideration, thoughtfulness, and an eye to more than yourself.”

“Won’t that just make her think I’m fit to rule?”

“Acting like a child will make her think you should defer to her. If she asks you anything you don’t want to answer, just look thoughtful and say, ‘I must think about that,’ or ‘That seems very important to you,’ or some such thing. If you say things like that, you don’t defy her, and you give her nothing to argue about.”

Humming, my husband cast me a rueful look. “I think I’m going to get very tired on this journey.”

I exhaled, and put Míriel on my shoulder to pat her back. “I think I will, too. But this is the thing, Kili. We cannot keep you from being a prince. But we must try to keep you from being a king.”

 

* * *

 

Tauriel had given me a lot to consider as she cleaned up my breakfast things. I played with Míriel quietly, considering what a fool King Thranduil had been to rid himself of such a formidable Elf maid. Of course, he didn’t seem the type to like someone who wasn’t afraid to gainsay him. I had no such qualms. Tauriel was far wiser than I was, and if anyone could help me avoid the disaster of Erebor’s kingship, it was she.

I suspected that my mother’s insistence was emotional, rather than practical. Dain was a good king, and far more experienced than I. I was still very young, and would be eaten alive in the political ocean of Erebor and its clans. I thought I could do well at the things Tauriel had suggested, like keeping a lot of traveling Dwarves from breaking the crockery in the inns of Imladris, and keeping the Elves from charging travelers ridiculous rates for stabling and meat pies. Those were things I understood.

Acting an adult... I sighed. I preferred a more exuberant take on life, but for Tauriel’s sake, I would try to be more considered around my mother.

First things first, though. Tauriel helped me to my feet so that I could visit the necessary. I didn’t need nearly as much help this morning, and if I was careful and walked slowly, my back wasn’t too painful. For appearance’s sake, I still left off my shirt, but I managed my boots today rather than slippers. The raw skin on my legs and chest had scabbed over and had even healed in large part, so I was more comfortable. Tauriel walked with me, but I was able to leave her nearby and do what was needed alone, which was gave me a sense of accomplishment.

That was funny. Being able to piss without help was an accomplishment? Only to a Warg-riding Dwarf.

I hoped Grimmaz was well, and thought of me as kindly as I thought of her.

When I was through, Tauriel and I took a gentle walk around the camp to see how I did. Míriel was back in her swaddle, but she wouldn’t remain there much longer. She liked to be held in someone’s arms so she could oversee everything. I looked forward to the day when I could carry her atop my shoulders, but she had to be a bit older, and I had to heal a lot more. It delighted me that so many of the Dwarves greeted sight of our daughter with such broad smiles, and came over to ask after me or make funny noises at Míriel. They didn’t ignore Tauriel, either, bowing to her and wishing her good morn. She bowed gracefully back, smiling warmly and chatting with ease.

She would make a fine queen, but as I would make a poor king, it didn’t bear contemplating, even if Dwarves would accept her.

We had a collection of companions with us as we paused to watch the horses and rams graze. Trellennan trotted up with a nicker and pushed my chest with his nose, glad to see me after so many weeks. I had missed him, too, and was glad to rub his head and flanks. Tauriel’s horse, Jalsin, came slowly to her whistle. The mare had survived a terrible fall when Berqk had tried to slice her legs, but she was mending, and would soon be strong again. She still limped, but after losing one horse to Orcs, Tauriel was grateful that Jalsin had avoided the same fate.

Míriel thought horses were great fun, and patted Jalsin’s nose when Tauriel took her out of her swaddle.

“Not too tired?” Tauriel asked quietly as Míriel patted Jalsin’s nose again.

“No,” I said. “I feel good, except for my back. I think I could ride for a few miles.”

Tauriel looked around, spotted Drennal in the field on her horse, and waved. The Elf maid waved back and rode closer.

“Have you given Linset a good gallop this morning?” Tauriel asked.

Drennal grinned. “Not what Giriel would consider a good gallop, but I would.”

“Can we boost Kili up? He wants to see if he can sit a horse yet.”

“Of course.” She slid off. “Stand, Linset. Tauriel, you’ll have to put Míriel down to help me boost Kili.”

I looked around to see _Maamr_ hastening over with Niri in tow. So I should act as an adult, should I? I would give it my best effort.

“Good morn, _Maamr_! You’re just in time. Take Miri, won’t you? Tauriel, pass Míriel to my mother so they can watch. All right, Drennal, I’m ready.”

Before my mother or Niri could speak, Tauriel and Drennal linked their hands under my left boot, and hoisted me up beside Linset. Thank the Valar that I was facing away from everything but the rams and horses, and they didn’t care that I grimaced as I got my hands on the saddle and swung my right leg over the Linset’s back. I had pulled my torn skin, but once I was astride, the fire lessened. Drennal stood by Linset’s head as I adjusted my seat.

“All right?” Tauriel called, shading her eyes against the sun to look up at me.

I nudged Linset’s sides lightly, and he stepped out, circling around Drennal who held his reins. The motion felt strange – and then I realized why. It wasn’t as elastic, as springy, as a Warg’s gait. But the motion settled into familiarity in a few moments, and I sat carefully, seeing how badly it hurt to settle into that motion.

It didn’t. I was on the mend.

I grinned widely, and shared that expression with Tauriel. “I’m fine, Tauriel. It doesn’t hurt my back. I won’t be racing around the steppe like Giriel for a while yet, but I’m fine at a walk like this.”

My mother was smiling, looking up at me with a mixture of relief and pride as she held her granddaughter. “Well done, Kili! That’s wonderful!”

“It is very good to see you ahorse again, _a’maelamin_ ,” Tauriel agreed. “So shall we strike the tents?”

“Onward to the river,” I grinned. I hadn’t felt better in two months.

We’d see how well I felt in a few hours. Likely awful. But right now, seeing the world from the back of a horse again, I didn’t care.

Drennal and Tauriel helped me down from Linset with exquisite care, and then I was plunked down on a blanket with my leaning frame and Míriel in the middle of our camp to watch everyone pack.

“They’ve put one bairn to watch the other, Miri,” I said, smiling at her, waving a finger puppet at her. I would have to make some new ones soon, for these were well worn after three months of almost constant use. Míriel didn’t care – they were her well-loved companions, as the Orc Spawn were mine.

Our camp came down with remarkable swiftness. Because the Orc Spawn had made it a practice to keep our gear tidy in case we had to avoid pursuit, our baggage was piled beside our tent very quickly. With five Elves to help with the tent, it also came down in moments. Our packhorse was loaded with most of the baggage, and Giriel took my horse for a good run to settle him before I climbed aback. The Dwarves, too, had packing down to a straightforward affair, loading the spare rams with most of it, and then sharing the rest out among the riders. The whole business took less than an hour, and we were ready to set off east.

Tauriel brought me my shirt and riding gloves, and helped me get the shirt over my head without pulling my skin. Then Rhiannel and Fallin boosted me atop Trellennan. I fastened my special strapping to keep me in the saddle, even though I didn’t expect to be moving faster than a walk today. I looped the rains over the front of my saddle, but just to keep Trellennan from running off, we put a lead line from his bridle to Drennal’s saddle. Drennal took her duty to watch out for me very seriously, which touched me. It also meant that I wouldn’t have to use my arms much to keep Trellennan moving, which would further save my back from strain.

We set out on a fine summer morning, though perhaps we would see rain in the late afternoon. Giriel, Rhiannel, and the Dwarves who had journeyed to the river yesterday led the way, and the rest of us followed in no order, shifting as we chose to visit back and forth. I was happy that Tauriel joined Drennal and me. We had had so little time together that wasn’t concerned with my wounds, politics, or other matters that I looked forward to having a few moments with my wife that were more personal, even if we were in the midst of a caravan. Tauriel had rearranged Míriel’s swaddle so that she looked out above Jalsin’s head, a new perspective that interested our bairn no end. She made a stream of interested burbles and chirps about it, waving her arms and kicking.

“When we get home, _a’maelamin_ ,” Tauriel said, “Míriel will get some new clothes. No more gowns. Leggings and small socks and shirts.”

“She might discover what legs are for besides kicking,” I agreed.

“And then we will spend our days chasing her,” Tauriel smiled in anticipation. “And she will need a bigger nest than her cradle.”

“And her own room. Which I cannot wait to take advantage of,” I winked at Tauriel. “Though you’ll have to forgo the top for a while.”

Drennal shot us a surprised look, but I met it with a smile and a wink.

“Ignore him, Drennal,” Tauriel advised our comrade. “He is irrepressible.”

“It means I’m on the mend, doesn’t it?” I protested. “Besides, Drennal might not want to ignore me. Maybe I’ve given her something to think about when she and Fallin get home.”

Drennal colored furiously and looked away. Then she unloosed Trellennan’s lead rope from her saddle and passed it to Tauriel. “Perhaps you have,” she confessed, and then rode off towards Fallin.

Tauriel and I exchanged looks, and shared a quiet snicker.

We did not push to any speed this morning, I’m sure in deference to me, which made me uncomfortable. I didn’t like holding up so many folk. But as we progressed, I realized that no one was interested in moving any faster. The chase after me from Thorin’s Hall across the steppe had ground everyone down, and now, the atmosphere was relaxed and playful. Some of the Dwarves started a song that went on for uncounted verses, and the Elves followed with one of their own. Then someone started the rhyming game and that went on almost until luncheon. We stopped long enough to warm up a few pots of stew, which gave me a chance to rest a bit. _Maamr_ joined us to have her bowl, and I was pleased that she didn’t press any topic that was uncomfortable. Perhaps she was still holding off in deference to my recovery.

In the afternoon, we went on, even though I was tired. I had asked Giriel how far it was to the river, and she’d said about fifteen miles. I was hopeful that I could sit aback Trellennan that long, and I did manage ten in relative comfort. But we were so close to the river at that point that I didn’t have the heart to ask for a halt, so I kept on, though slowly. _Maamr_ had been riding beside me for some time, and from her expression she realized I was tiring. So did Tauriel. The two of them murmured a bit together, and soon several of the Dwarves, Fallin, Rhiannel, and Drennal pushed ahead with most of the baggage. They’d find a good site for our camp, and begin to set it up while I slowly brought up the rear.

Dusk would soon be upon us when the trees marking the channel of the river came into view. I was glad to see it. We followed the trail of our comrades to see where they had made the river crossing, and happily returned the waves of the scouts watching for us. The stream was wide here, but the current was gentle, and Fallin swam his mount across to help Giriel take me across without getting me wet. I crossed without incident, and was relieved to let Fallin and Giriel help me off Trellennan.

The camp was before us, under and among the willow and oak trees that rose beside the river, As before, the Orc Spawn tent was near the middle, with the smaller Dwarvish tents around it. Fires glowed under kettles and spits, and folk went to and fro to arrange baggage, set up the necessary, and care for the animals.

After three long months, we were back in Lord Elrond’s lands. We were almost home.

 


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all.
> 
> It's on with the festival! There will be a midnight race across the plain of Imladris, laundry, naked Dwarves, acrobatic Elves, silly games, gingerbread, and a little tender romance.
> 
> Dis will try to reason with Kili again, too, but she may get back more reason than she counted on!
> 
> Hope you enjoy the fun!

What a relief it was to finally reach camp! I had worried about the strain on Kili for half of the afternoon. He had healed remarkably fast since his rescue, but it was a lot to expect even a resilient Dwarf to travel fifteen miles on horseback not three days after a near fatal flogging. But Kili had wanted to reach Lord Elrond’s lands, where we would be comfortable and more protected than on the wild steppe. He also wanted to be on home ground for the forthcoming discussion his mother would surely open.

Why must there be something uncomfortable about even the most joyous event? We had successfully kept Kili’s promise to Dís, we had survived Orc attacks, Kili was healing, we had formed the most lasting bonds of friendship with Rhiannel, Giriel, Drennal, and Fallin, and our babe was happily growing. If only Dís would gracefully recognize that Kili had no intention of following her plan for him.

I came back to my worry for Kili. His mother had also recognized how tired he’d become, and we’d quickly agreed to send most of our company ahead with the baggage to make camp while Kili, Giriel, Dís, a few of the Dwarves, and I slowly followed. I think Kili would have walked the last bit if there hadn’t been a river to cross, which meant he would have had to dismount and then remount Trellennan. Getting on and off his horse hurt more than riding did, so he persevered. Still, once we were across the Mitheithel, he was quick to ask Fallin and Giriel to help him down. Though tired and sore, he was smiling and in good spirits. Our comrades had already pitched our comfortable tent, and he was happy to settle outside with Míriel while we arranged the baggage and set up our hearth.

Drennal trotted up as we stowed the baggage, smiling widely. “ _Aaye_ , Kili! _Aaye_ , Tauriel! We will have a good supper before long! Rabbit stew, more than even Kili can eat, and Fulrisch and I both downed deer, so we’ll have venison, too. Rhiannel and Fallin have a mountain of greens, and two of the Dwarves came upon a whole dell of strawberries. They’re small, but so sweet! I hope you’re all hungry.”

“Ravenous,” Kili replied. “How soon? Do we have time for a wash first?”

Drennal nodded. “But you won’t have the river to yourselves. Half of the Dwarves began a game that involves a lot of yelling and splashing.”

Kili grinned at her. “That doesn’t narrow it down, does it? Almost every Dwarvish game requires yelling and splashing.”

“So I have learned,” Drennal shrugged, laughing. “This game has a ball.”

“I think I’d better stay upstream,” Kili said. “Drier that way.”

“It would not do to get your wounds wet,” Drennal agreed. “Too painful by far! I’m going back to the roasting fire. Fulrisch’s brother, Vani, will show Fallin and me how to roll a deer roast around greens, and when we put it on to roast we’ll show him how to make gingerbread.”

Kili groaned. “Gingerbread, too? Drennal, you are the Valar’s gift to starving Dwarves!”

“Starving Elves too,” I added, patting my stomach.

“We’ll come back to get you for the feast after you’ve washed,” Drennal waved, and trotted back to the gathering around the central cooking fire. “Enjoy your wash!”

“There, that’s the last of it!” Giriel put her arms akimbo to regard the tent with a critical eye. “Well unpacked, and with a hearth fire laid for after supper if we want it. Rhiannel already went off for a bath, so he can sit sentry for us if you’d like. He said he found us a good spot downstream.”

I’d hoped to have those moments alone with my _a’maelamin_ , but we were not yet in Imladris where we could dispense with thoughts of ambush, so it was prudent to keep a watchful eye out. Sighing, I gathered bathing things and clean clothes in a basket, and went to collect Kili.

“Let me at least carry the basket,” Kili offered as he got carefully to his feet, for I had that as well as Míriel in hand.

“Only if doing so does not hurt you.”

He took the basket from me. “It’s fine. It doesn’t squirm the way Míriel does.”

I chuckled, for Míriel was very squirmy this evening, wanting to look around as the world went by. I got her on my shoulder, took the arm that Kili offered me, and we followed Giriel downstream, away from the camp. She trotted ahead of us to find Rhiannel. We followed more slowly past the Dwarves’ water game, which was as loud and boisterous as Drennal had observed, and waved at the contestants. We passed a few more Dwarves enjoying a wash and a soak who happily waved to us as we went by.

“Dwarves aren’t overly modest,” Kili murmured, half in apology at the nakedness we’d passed.

“So much hair covers a multitude of things,” I observed quietly. “Are Dwarf maids so hairy, too? If so, I don’t wonder that your folk have so few babes. It takes care not to become entangled during coupling.”

Kili gasped in laughter. “Oh, Valar, Tauriel, my sweet _amrâlimê_ , you actually said something bawdy! What I wouldn’t give to get entangled with you right now.”

“I have missed you just as badly, _a’maelamin_ ,” I squeezed his arm. “But we will be home soon, and your wounds will be healed soon, and then I will –”

“Rhiannel’s over here!” Giriel appeared ahead, waving us over.

I muttered something un-Elflike under my breath, drawing Kili’s snicker. “I think they conspire among themselves so that we are never alone!”

“Who conspires, _amrâlimê_ , other than you to thwart my mother?”

“They all do. Dwarves, Elves, all of them. But you are too tender to touch now, in any case, so it makes no difference other than to annoy me.”

“It will be good to be home, where we have doors we can close against the lot of them,” Kili said, relenting in his teasing. His hand tightened on my arm. “Oh and oh, I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed snuggling with you, kissing you, bathing with you, coupling madly as well as tenderly with you, and sitting quietly by our fire with you. Alone. Blessedly alone.”

“Don’t speak of them. I already miss all of those things too much. You will make me miss them all the more.”

Giriel appeared again, waving us over to where she and her tall Elf lad stood. “Rhiannel’s found you a nice, flat rock, Kili, where you can sit without getting your back wet. The water’s cold, but it feels good after riding all day. Why don’t you let Rhiannel and me take Míriel, and then you two can have some time to yourselves?”

“Valar bless you,” I wished her sincerely, drawing her laughter. “I can bathe her first and dress her, if you want.”

“I can do those things, too.” Giriel took Míriel from me, nuzzling the babe’s ear to make her giggle. “Go, go! Rhiannel went to a lot of effort to find a private few minutes for you, so don’t waste them!”

“We’ll return the favor, Rhiannel, anytime Giriel holds still for you to catch her,” Kili shot back with a grin. “Valar, maid. Can’t you give the poor lad a chance for his own bairn?”

Giriel blushed bright red, and for once was at a loss for words, especially when Rhiannel laughed softly and whispered in her ear. “You’re a right pain, Kili!” she finally managed, and carried Míriel and her things off after Rhiannel without a backward look.

“You feel better,” I put my arms akimbo to regard Kili up and down. “Teasing the maids and inciting the lads to all manner of things.”

He shrugged with his usual lack of repentance. “I’d rather do it myself, but since I can’t, I’ll roil the waters for those who can.”

He flexed his arms carefully, wincing as he stretched his arms forward.

“I’ll help you with your shirt,” I offered, putting down the basket, but he waved me off.

“You’ve been looking after me for days, Tauriel. Take a moment for yourself. I can sit for a while.”

“I am grateful to the Valar to be able to look after you, Kili. For five weeks, I didn’t have you, and it was almost more than I could stand.”

He came up behind me where I kneeled by the basket, and caressed the braids in my hair. “I am grateful that you came after me, rescued me, and are looking after me better than anyone ever could. I’m impatient with myself, not you.” His hands rested on my shoulders as he pressed a kiss on my ear. “Please, enjoy the water, _amrâlimê_. We have two very deadly Elves to watch over us, so we’re safe enough for the moment.”

I turned towards him, and took his hands in mine to give him a long kiss. I couldn’t remember when we had last exchanged such a lingering caress – probably the inn in Thorin’s Halls, over five weeks ago. Far too long. He was thinner now, and in pain, but the light in his eyes was warm, and his crooked smile was for me alone. I had come so close to losing him –

“Don’t cry, _amrâlimê_ ,” he whispered. He clambered down gingerly onto his knees, and took my shoulders in his hands. “It’s been a hard path, but we’re together again, as we should be, and we’ll soon be home. I love you more than I can say, so please, don’t cry.”

“Don’t you understand?” I wailed, but so only he could hear. “I almost lost you, Kili! I almost lost you.”

He cocked his head to kiss my cheeks where my tears had fallen. “When the Orcs had me, I had these dreams where Fili talked to me. He kept telling me that he wanted to take care of me, as he did when he was alive, but he couldn’t do that unless I let go. It wasn’t really Fili, of course. It sounded like my brother, but it was really the part of me that was scared and didn’t think I could survive and wanted to give up. I kept telling him that I wouldn’t let go, because you were behind me, and I had to hold on until you caught up to me. So you didn’t almost lose me, my most precious _amrâlimê_. You held on to me, even from afar, so I could hold on to you.”

He eased my head against his chest, hugging me as best he could, stroking my hair and nuzzling my ear softly. “Truth?” I asked, muffling my voice in his shirt.

“Truth.” He tipped my chin up to regard me, his eyes full of his affection and concern for me. “Very much truth.”

He kissed me again, as slowly as before, but this time it was a caress full of promise rather than of relief. His gaze slid off to the side, then back to me. “I think we’d better bathe soon, before we’re interrupted again.”

“How do you Dwarves live with such a lack of privacy?” I murmured, smiling.

“Dwarves are very social folk,” he teased, giving my hair one more caress. “Perhaps they’ve been giving Giriel lessons.”

I laughed, my mood restored. “Perhaps so. Now, as you said, we had better bathe. Here, I will help you with your shirt, and then you can sit on the rock to wash while I bathe in the water. Then I will help you finish. I have clean clothes for us both. Tomorrow, I will have to wash a mountain of things. Mostly Míriel’s gowns and diapers.”

We disrobed, Kili completely, though I kept my underthings. There were too many folk coming and going for me to forgo them. Kili sat on the edge of the flat rock and dangled his feet in the water, and I waded in beside it. It was the most thorough scrub either of us had had since Thorin’s Halls, and if it was not as comfortable as our own bathing chamber, it was cool and refreshing. I washed quickly, and then stood close to Kili’s rock to help him wash carefully around his bandages. I was happy to see that except for his back, most of his wounds were already fading to the pink of new skin. The resiliency of Dwarves was amazing, and a little of my worry for him eased.

Once we dried off and dressed in clean clothes, I felt much refreshed. Kili didn’t look so tired, either, as we collected our things to return to our tent. We called out to Rhiannel and Giriel to tell them we were finished, only to hear surreptitious giggling. When we stuck our heads through the bushes, we didn’t find the romance we expected, but rather Giriel and Rhiannel with Míriel sitting between them. The babe was reaching for the strand of river grass with its drooping seed head that our comrades dipped over her nose. The babe did look funny as her eyes almost crossed when the grass came close to her nose. Kili and I laughed, which drew Míriel’s attention, and she gave us a delighted grin and a chirp.

“Have Uncle Rhiannel and Auntie Giriel have made a new game for you, Miri?” Kili asked. “It looks like a fun game.”

“Wait until tomorrow,” Giriel handed Rhiannel the strand of grass. “We’re going to have our own games.”

Tauriel glanced at me guiltily. “Forgive me, Giriel, Rhiannel. I know you have worked hard on the games. But I have a very great favor to ask of you both.”

Our friends exchanged glances, and leaned forward. I told them quickly about making the trip to and from Imladris, and not just to collect Kili’s medicines. As I expected, Giriel liked the idea of racing across the plain, and Rhiannel was already mulling the tacks to take to persuade Lord Elrond to visit us.

“If we leave after the feast tonight,” Giriel considered, “we could make Imladris by tomorrow evening, and return the following day. Do you have the list of things that Niri needs?”

“I do.”

Giriel and Rhiannel looked at each other. When he leaned forward to whisper in Giriel’s ear, the Elf maid’s eyes widened and she stared hard at her comrade. Rhiannel’s smile was small, but something in it drew her laughter. “Do you want to leave before the feast, then?”

“Leaving after will still give us all of tomorrow night,” he replied.

She grinned. “Done. But you must promise me one thing, Tauriel.”

“Anything.”

“You have to keep the steppe games going until we get back, because I’m going to ride in them no matter how long it takes me to back here.”

“Done.” I held out my hand, and Giriel slapped it to seal the deal. “I’ll get you the list that Niri gave me when we get back to our tent.”

We gathered up Míriel and returned together to our tent, where Drennal and Fallin were already waiting for us. I gave Giriel the list of medicines, then we went together to the feast.

It was a happy gathering around the central cooking fire, for the meat smelled delicious, and already bowls of stew were making their way around. We had plenty of clean water to drink, and soon venison came sizzling off spits and out of hot skillets. Kili moved with more ease, though he took pains to guard his bandaged back from bumps and thumps. I had a long discussion with Dís about this and that, nothing of the substance I was sure she would eventually bring up. In fact, she took pains to be congenial. Kili enjoyed being with the Dwarves, and seemed oblivious to all but enjoying himself. It amused me, then, when he made his way to my side with a plate of Drennal’s gingerbread.

“Have you tried this, _Maamr_?” He held the plate out to Dís. “We had it at an inn in Bree, The Prancing Pony. Our friend, the hobbit, Bilbo, showed Drennal how to make it, and it’s very good.”

Dís took a piece, and then Kili gave me the plate while he eased down beside me. He leaned over to kiss my ear, and to whisper in my ear.

“They’re off to Imladris.”

So much for thinking my husband was aware of nothing but feasting, singing, and gingerbread. I smothered a smile, and kissed his cheek because I could.

“This _is_ good,” Dís agreed, as I took my own piece. Kili was quick to take the last bit on the plate, and we munched it together, telling Dís about Bilbo and teaching us to cook.

“This is the hobbit who went with you to Erebor?” Dís asked, and we nodded. By the time we related the tale of how Bilbo had freed Thorin’s company from King Thranduil’s cells, Kili was yawning.

“It’s time for me to find my blankets, _amrâlimê_ ,” he murmured. “It’s been a very long day.”

“I’m glad to see you so much better, my son,” Dís said, her voice surprisingly gentle. She leaned over to kiss his forehead, and pull a strand of the shorter hair that fell into his eyes. “Sleep well.”

“Thank you, _Maamr_ ,” was Kili’s affectionate reply. “Sleep well.”

We collected Míriel, and found our way back to our tent. Drennal and Fallin were still at the feast, so we settled into our space in peace. Kili was able to get mostly undressed by himself, though he still couldn’t wrap his arms around his chest to get out of his shirt, but that I easily remedied. Míriel was well exercised, so she settled into her nest in her bag of gowns without a murmur, and Kili arranged himself carefully on his side. I lay facing him, and if we couldn’t snuggle our bodies as closely as we would have liked, we could at least twine our fingers together. We shared a few kisses, a few caresses, before Kili fell asleep.

I stayed beside him as he slept, because at long last, I could.

 

* * *

 

Black visions, waves of pain, and so, so thirsty as a brown stubble world undulated by on the back of a Warg...

I jerked awake. I was panting, and soaked in sweat. Oh, Valar; another night terror filled with Orcs and –

I refused to let dead Orcs consume more of my life. My life was mine again. Mine –

“Kili?”

“I’m here, Tauriel,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’m here. With you. Not there.”

Her hand stroked my cheek, my hair. “Yes, you’re here. With me.”

I sat up, wringing a hand over my face. It came away wet, and the stench of fear was strong. I wrinkled my nose. “Valar, I’m rank. I need another bath.”

Tauriel was smiling. “You do. But take heart. You slept soundly most of the night, and just now, you sat up without grimacing.”

Tauriel was right. Maybe I’d dreamed, but I felt much less achy and sore. I stretched experimentally, and was gratified that I would be able to get my shirt on and off by myself today. “You’re right. But I still need a bath.”

“Let’s see if we can find Niri to take off your bandages, and we can wash more of you before he replaces them.”

“I wish he’d say I could soak the lot, but probably not,” I exhaled. “Where are my trousers?”

Once I was dressed, we ventured out with Míriel in Tauriel’s arms, found the apothecary, and he came with us to the river to see to me. It was still painful to have the poultice carefully removed and the welts cleaned, but for the first time the pain wasn’t enough to nauseate me and leave me wrung out. I was able to strip down and wash everything for the first time, though I still couldn’t have the soak I wanted, as too many of the welts were still raw. When I was clean and dry, Míriel oversaw us from her blanket as Tauriel braided my hair into two plaits off my back while Niri gently painted lavender oil on the welts.

“That’s almost the last of the oil, Kili,” Niri said regretfully, as he mixed a new poultice. “I won’t put so much of this on you, either. You’re healing swiftly, but don’t move fast for a while, or you’ll tear the new skin.”

“I hope we’ll have a new supply in a few days,” Tauriel said as she finished my braid. “Giriel and Rhiannel left last night for the city. They may be back as early as tomorrow night.”

“I’ll stretch what I have that far, then,” Niri said. “We’ll need clean linen, too.”

“I’ll be washing a great many things today, as I suspect many of us will.”

“That’ll be the order of the morn,” Niri agreed. “But this afternoon we’ll start our festival.”

“I wish I could be out there racing around,” Kili said. “Do you remember those mock battles Master Dwalin used to put on, Niri? Those were the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

Niri laughed. “Oh, I remember them. I was never so busy as when Master Dwalin called for a mock battle. There were so many injuries to that to call them mock battles was a lie.”

Tauriel laughed. “I hope we won’t see so many during our festival.”

“How can it be a festival without knocking a few heads?” I joked. “That’s hardly sporting, is it?”

“Spoken like a Dwarf,” Tauriel shook her head. “Are all Dwarvish festivals so prone to injuries, Niri?”

“Of course,” he grinned, winking at me. “We are not Elves, Tauriel.”

Niri took his leave from us with a wave, and we went back to the tent for breakfast. As we put porridge on the hearth fire and tea, Tauriel told me that my back still looked awful, but all of the tears were mending well. The wounds would need oiling for several more days to keep the fragile new skin supple, and to keep the forming scars from itching. I wouldn’t be able to lie on it for a long while yet, but just holding myself upright wouldn’t be so painful. All in all, I was healing well.

We shared breakfast with Drennal and Fallin, who came in from grooming their horses. Tauriel left me with Míriel and the Elves as she saw to Trellennan and Jalsin, then we all collected our clothes to be washed, and trooped down to the river with everyone else intent on the same things. I couldn’t scrub with any force, but I could sit on my flat rock and help rinse, or drape wet things in the sun or on bushes to dry. Soon a long stretch of the riverbank was festooned with drying clothing, from Míriel’s tiny gowns and diapers to hilarious examples of Dwarvish underclothing that did not bear describing, even clean. There was a lot of genial calling back and forth, Dwarvish sniping about the state of repair of some items, and Elvish laughter about the bawdy comments. The festival had an early start when several of the Dwarves began a game of water chicken, which soon devolved into the usual raucous tussling. I laughed so hard that my sides ached.

Luncheon was a casual event, folk eating as they finished their washing and took part in the water tussling. Tauriel put me to work folding Míriel’s clothes on the bank, which made it easy for the Dwarves to rope me into judging one contest or the other. Most were silly, such as the biggest splash, or the highest jump off a rock, or other such dubious achievement. It was hilarious, especially when Ferrisch, the game Dwarvish general, and his sister’s son, Dromi, had a huge row about whether splashing higher topped splashing wider, and they ended up in a tussling match.

“Hang on, hang on, you lot!” I roared, waving one of Míriel’s diapers like a flag. “There’s only one thing to do to settle it, you louts, or else I’ll call you both out of the contest!”

“Just how, you whelp?” Ferrisch roared back. “Mine was higher, and that’s that!”

“What, are you saying you can’t do what I’m going to tell you to do?” I taunted back, hands on hips. “You’re a poor sport, you are!”

“I’ll have no young whelp tell me I can’t do something!” Ferrisch shouted back, stomping out of the water and striding towards me, fist clenching. It was a ludicrous sight, the barrel-chested general covered in grey hair and sodden braids, except for some strategic bits that made Tauriel cover her mouth to hold in her laughter.

“Oh and oh, then you can do what I’m telling you, can you? Good! Dromi, get your puny ass up here, too, and right quick about it! Or are you about to tell me you can’t do this, either?”

“Spit on you, you right bastard!” Dromi grinned back, fully in the spirit of the game. “Name it!”

“I’ll tell both of you. Ferrisch splashed higher, and Dromi splashed wider. There’s nothing else for it, is there? Ferrisch has to show how wide he can splash, and Dromi has to show how high he can splash, and then we’ll know who does which better, and then we can proclaim the best at both, and be done with it. So have at, lads!”

Both of them swore, but that set a lot of Dwarves jibing at them, so both were forced to jump again to save face. Ferrisch had a much more impressively wide swath than Dromi sent skyward, so the old general was declared the winner, and got his prize of a near fatal ducking by a lot of cheering Dwarves.

“When do the Elf maids jump?” one of the youngest Dwarves blurted. “I’d right like to see them have a go!”

Tauriel and Drennal looked at each other, then at the Dwarf, and laughed. “We wouldn’t make any splash,” Drennal smiled, pretending not to understand what the Dwarf really wanted to see. “We are too lightweight, and if we jumped, we would float gently down like winter leaves.”

The Dwarf looked back and forth between them, sure he was being teased. “No...”

“It is a diplomatic answer she makes to save you the effort of having your face slapped by such a beautiful creature,” I quipped, which brought a laugh. “Still, it hardly seems fair that such beautiful creatures don’t contribute something to the festivities of the day, right, lads?”

“Right!” came back the expected chorus.

“So, Lady Tauriel and Lady Drennal, I challenge you –”

“Don’t you dare, Kili!” Drennal protested, and Tauriel looked at me with a quelling expression that I gleefully ignored.

“Now, Drennal, you were the one who claimed you could float, so this should prove no challenge to a feather-light creature, yes? I challenge the two of you to see which one can stand on her hands for the longest time!”

The Dwarves cheered at that, but Dwarves cheer at most anything in the heat of pub games or festivals. Drennal frowned a bit, and Tauriel looked at me as if I were mad.

“What’s the prize if we do?” Drennal asked.

“A kiss from me!” one of the Dwarves yelled, amid raucous jeers.

“Oh and oh, neither one of them will even stand on their feet for such a prize, Jaff!” I shot back with a laugh. “And aren’t they both wedded lasses, and as true as they are fair? So what prize shall we give them?”

Tauriel and Drennal had their heads together, and now broke apart to regard us. Drennal said, “The winner gets to chose a song for the loser to sing.”

“Well done, then!” I crowed. “So, up you go!”

Drennal didn’t bother to stand up first. She was on her hands with her toes above her as an act of magic. Tauriel did more of a roll from a seated position to her hands and then up, but both of them had no trouble balancing. Drennal was the more flamboyant, touching her toes to the earth over her head, then raising them, even walking back and forth on her hands as easily as if she did it all the time. Tauriel saw that, and balanced on one hand to loud applause. Drennal tried that, but overbalanced a bit, and so went back to two hands. Then she lowered herself to her forearms, arched her feet over her head, and put one toe on the back of her head and the other straight up. But in trying to get back to her hands, she overbalanced a bit again, and rolled down into Tauriel, who rolled over out of the way. Both of them came up to great applause.

“So do we call a tie?” I asked the Dwarves, which of course caused a great debate. That caused Tauriel and Drennal to laugh in turn.

“Let us say that Drennal is the more elegant, and I am the stronger,” Tauriel said. “So we will both sing.”

They gave us a light Elvish air, Drennal the higher voice and Tauriel the lower, and though it was an Elvish children’s song about cats dancing on a moonlit night rendered in Quenya, the Dwarves thought it was marvelous, and cheered mightily.

As everyone’s laundry was at last dry, we called a break to allow general tidying, and then moved away from the riverbanks for archery and axe throwing. Tauriel would represent us in archery, as I could not yet pull a bow, and she would also throw her knives in that contest. I would have to be content to sit in the shade with Míriel beside me to cheer Tauriel.

As the folk vying in the archery game busily set up targets and measured distances and discussed the ebb and flow of the wind, I sat beside Míriel on our blanket and got out her finger puppets. Tauriel had washed her squeaky ball, which had been much the worse for wear, and I busied myself to restuff the casing with the soft cloth and the chime.

As I sewed the seam shut, I realized that _Maamr_ was making her way towards me.

I took a deep breath. _Maamr_ had waited for Tauriel to be engaged in the contest and away from my side before she came over. She wanted to have me all to herself when she resumed the conversation we’d begun in the Ram’s Beard Inn in Thorin’s Halls.

I remembered what Tauriel had said about acting like an adult, and making careful verbal parries that didn’t allow for argument. In the heat of battle, I hoped I remembered any of it.

“ _Maamr_!” I heralded with a smile. “Look Miri, _Gabilmaamr_ has come to play with you. Say, ‘Hullo, _Gabilmaamr_!’ ”

“Hullo, my little Miri!” _Maamr_ waved at Míriel, laughing at how the babe kicked enthusiastically when she recognized her grandmother. “You know your _Gabilmaamr_ , don’t you? And what a sweet smile! Are you going to watch the archers with your _Taad_?”

“I’d rather be one of the archers myself,” I admitted with a smile. “Just slide Míriel over a bit for a seat.”

“Niri says your back is healing well,” _Maamr_ opened, as she picked Míriel up and sat her comfortably in her lap.

I nodded. “I won’t be pulling a bow for some time yet, but it’s mending.”

Míriel squirmed in _Maamr’s_ hands, trying to reach for her squeaky ball in my hands, but I hadn’t finished sewing it. “Almost done, Miri. I just have to tie the knot. Then you can have your favorite back. There.”

I cut the thread with my boot knife, carefully stowed the needle in our sewing kit, and held the ball out to her. She reached for it, burbling away, and finally my mother sat Míriel between us with the ball between her feet for her to grab. She looked so funny trying to pull the ball towards her stomach, finally tumbling over with the ball clasped tightly in her arms. She lay on her back, kicking in glee and warbling happily as she gummed the ball.

“Now all is right with the world, yes, little one?” I laughed, tickling the top of her hair. It had gotten so much longer since I’d been gone. For a lark, I gathered all the wisps together into a little twist on the top of her head. “Look, there’s almost enough for your first braid, Miri! Let’s see what we can do with it.”

I took a piece of the thread I’d used to sew the ball and tied the little fluff into a tail that stood straight up on the top of her head. When I sat her up, she looked questioningly at me, the ball forgotten as she tried to see what this new thing was on the top of her head. I chuckled, and _Maamr_ gave me a reluctant smile.

“You are the cutest bairn, aren’t you?” I cooed to her. “You have the cutest topknot, and the pinkest toes, and your _Taad’s_ black hair, and your _Maamr’s_ delicate ears, don’t you?”

“She looks like both of you,” Maamr said, smoothing the back of Míriel’s gown. “Kili... about Erebor...”

“What about it?” I said evenly, rolling the squeaky ball to Míriel, but the bairn was still trying to reach her topknot.

“You and Tauriel both talked about staying in Rivendell, but I think you should give serious consideration to Erebor. Durin’s line is yours, and you belong in his city.”

“I’m too young to rule Erebor, _Maamr_. Dain is the Dwarf better suited to reclaim a kingdom we lost so long ago. You know that, I know that, and I won’t keep repeating it.”

“I watched you judging the water games, Kili. You handled even old Ferrisch with ease and humor. You have the ability to rule inside you.”

“Every one of the Dwarves with us is a Longbeard, either a family retainer or a relative. There’s not a Firebeard or a Broadbeam among them. There aren’t any of the Dwarves who used to pound on me so often, either. Our folk need a strong, well-respected, experienced leader, not just a lad who oversees the quoits players at the inn. I am strong, but not experienced, and we don’t have to go into the respected part, do we? We don’t need a ruler with so many questions about him, either.”

“What does that mean?”

“Is the king required to be a pureblood Dwarf?”

My mother’s gaze snapped to mine, and she tensed with affront. “What do you imply?”

“I imply nothing, _Maamr_. I don’t care who my father was. I never have. I don’t care whether you hold your secrets about him, either. I ask a question of statecraft – what rules govern who can take the throne?”

“What difference do they make?”

“You’re too good a politician to think our folk will brush those rules off as easily as your question says you want to. You know the speculation about me being half an Elf as well as I do. If the rules of ascension require pure blood, then our folk will spend time arguing whether I am or not when they need to worry about the kingdom and our allies. You might even be asked to prove what I am, which I can’t think you’d like, given how long you’ve held silence on the matter. Even if the rules don’t require pure blood, Erebor has a history of discord with the Woodland Realm, and anyone who looks like a halfbreed will be viewed with suspicion as ceding too much to that realm from the start. Anyone who looks like a halfbreed with an Elvish wife from the Woodland Realm and a bairn by her will make them even more suspicious. So what do the rules say?”

 _Maamr’s_ lips thinned almost to invisibility, and her stare was baleful. At one time, that look would have made me pray to disappear into the earth. But I’d been in the hands of Orcs, and _Maamr’s_ glare was no longer as terrifying as it had been five weeks ago, and I held those baleful eyes without a blink. When it was clear that _Maamr_ was not going to answer my question, I cocked my head at her.

“Silence is one answer. But even assuming that pure blood isn’t required, I still wonder why you think me on the throne of Erebor is a good idea. It doesn’t serve the kingdom. It doesn’t serve our folk. It doesn’t serve our allies. The only thing it serves is a lineage drawn on an ancient piece of parchment. An accident of birth shouldn’t take precedent when a fitter king is already in place who serves us better.”

Tauriel trotted up, her face glowing. “Kili, I won the knife game!”

I jerked my gaze from _Maamr’s_ with a start. Both the archery and knife games had run their course, and I hadn’t seen a moment of either one. I looked up at Tauriel, who understood the tense nature of our conversation at once. Her triumphant expression sobered quickly into apprehension.

“I’m sorry. I’ve interrupted your conversation.”

“No apology needed, _amrâlimê_. _Maamr_ and I can talk again later, if needed. Yes, _Maamr_?”

My mother still glared at me, but as again, I met her eyes straightly. Her gaze softened into something more thoughtful, and she nodded. “We will talk again, Kili.”

Her tone wasn’t ominous, but her words made me sigh. How many times did we have to rehash this? I winked at my wife out of my mother’s sight.

“You won the knife game? That’s no surprise, of course. And did you do just as well in the archery game?”

“Fallin and I split that one,” Tauriel said. I wish you had been in it; you would have given both of us a good match. Dís, your general Ferrisch has an excellent arm with his axe. He took that game easily, with his nephew a good second. Drennal did very well, too – third in the archery. Oh, Kili – what have you done to Míriel’s hair?”

I grinned. “It’s her first topknot. Not quite enough to braid, but I like it.”

Míriel was still trying to grab her hair, which drew Tauriel’s chuckle. “You are a silly thing, little jewel. Just like your _Taad_.”

I smothered a smile. I hadn’t used any of the deflecting words that Tauriel had suggested. But if the thwarted expression on my mother’s face was any indication, I had acted far too much like an adult, and not at all like the rash bairn she remembered. I hoped Tauriel would be pleased. I certainly was.


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Kili's recovery is as up and down as the gait of a Warg, and Tauriel waits to see if her plans will bear fruit. Miriel gets a new toy, and the Dwarves make the most of a rainy day.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the bucolic revelry!

 I had just taken my first shot on the archery field when I noticed Dís making her way towards Kili and Míriel as they watched the game from beneath the shading oaks. My first reaction was the expected protective one, because my _a’maelamin_ had just returned to me after a harrowing ordeal. My second was anger, because Dís chose to approach him when I was not with him. My third was self-reproach. Dís was Kili’s mother, and did not compete with me for Kili’s affections. She had every right to be with her son, who after all had returned to her after a harrowing ordeal, too. And who would not want to visit Míriel, that most winsome of babes?

That didn’t mean that Dís wouldn’t take advantage of Kili’s solitude to press him again about Erebor. Kili and I both knew that this was unavoidable, and if Kili couldn’t face her without me by his side, it would never be settled. I told myself to concentrate on the archery target, and leave Kili to deal with Dís.

I have faced easier tasks of concentration, I admit.

I refused to look at Kili and his mother during the archery game, or during the following knife-throwing game. The second game offered me a better way to vent my apprehension, because it called for more movement than did archery. If my knives struck with a bit more force than a mere game merited, no one noticed.

The axe-throwing game that followed was not one I competed in, but it was very instructive as to the habits of Dwarves. The level of skill was impressive; I even saw two Dwarves casually juggling multiple axes on the side of the field as if doing so took no thought or effort, so comfortable were they with such weighty and lethal weapons. As the competitors threw at various distances to hit their targets, they and the onlookers yelled raucously back and forth to exchange the most awful profanity, but the insults were met most often with laughter and even applause. Drennal, Fallin, and I stood by to watch, and we decided that another game took place in addition to the axe throwing – one to determine who could muster the most outrageous epithet. I now understood why Kili was so fond of clever word play and was so accomplished at it – this was part of his heritage, the way graceful music was part of the Imladris Elves’.

Had I given Kili the wrong advice, then, to use deflecting words with his mother? Would it have been better to let them shout at each other in the fashion of their folk? From what I had seen in Thorin’s Halls, and then here with Dís’s company, everything Dwarvish seemed to be at volume, with plenty of comments from observers. Maybe my advice to Kili had only put him at more of a disadvantage with his mother.

The Woodland Realm had considered me hotheaded and forceful. Kili’s folk thought I was cerebral and serene. The contrast was laughable and confusing, and when Drennal and Fallin set off to watch another game, I decided to see whether Kili had dealt with his mother as a Dwarf or as an Elf. It would be fitting if he’d done so as an Elf, for that would make us both the same confusing combination of races and cultures.

Oh, Dís’s expression was not pleased. Kili’s, however, was neither smug nor angry. He sat erect, with confidence, rather than hunched over. His expression was relaxed, intent on his mother as if they talked about Míriel or a nuance of the axe throwing. My arrival startled him, however, enough that I was sure he hadn’t seen a bit of the games since his mother had joined him. His eyes met mine with their usual warm light, but they seemed a bit brighter, and I immediately knew why. He’d held Dis off, and his wink told me he was proud of it.

I couldn’t wait to hear the particulars, but I had to endure the rest of the afternoon’s games in ignorance, as Dís stayed with us to play with Míriel. It was very genteel, polite comments and admiring laughter about the skill of the competitors, and small tales told back and forth, and speculation as to when Míriel might crawl or teethe or say her first intelligible word. Then it was time to prepare supper, and Kili and I helped with that public effort. We had no chance for a private moment during supper, nor afterwards when we gathered around the fire to converse. A pair of Dwarves engaged me at some length about knives. Another corralled Fallin and me to talk about archery. A fourth, Troli, came over shyly (for a Dwarf) to give Míriel a small doll he’d fashioned out of cloth. He said his brother in the Blue Mountains had a tiny babe, and he’d made a similar doll for her, and that he missed seeing her. He hoped that we would take his gift kindly in remembrance of his brother’s child. Of course, I made much of the toy, for it was a little Dwarf girl with tiny brown braids painstakingly made of thread, and a blue dress with clever stitching in white around the hems. He was very kind to make such a gift for Míriel, and she exhibited great diplomacy when she latched onto it at once with a happy burble. That was better reward for his efforts than my words.

The evening passed pleasantly despite my curiosity about Kili’s conversation with Dís. It was only when my _a’maelamin_ yawned that we had a polite excuse to walk to our tent, where we finally found privacy.

Kili kicked off his boots at the door of the tent, then eased carefully to his knees in our space to watch me light one of the tent lanterns. Though he was clearly tired, he busied himself with changing Míriel’s gown. It had gotten well spotted with gravy, for Kili had again indulged the babe with fingerfuls from his supper bowl. He maneuvered Míriel’s arms into the tiny garment, tsking when he couldn’t tie the laces.

“This one is too small, little jewel. I’ll have to find another.”

I passed him one of the gowns I’d altered. “I moved the laces on this one, but it still won’t fit her for much longer.”

“You’re getting so big, Miri!” Kili teased, tickling the babe’s toes, which she answered with excited kicks. “You’re four months old now! Soon you’ll have teeth and more hair for your _Taad_ to make into funny topknots, and you’ll crawl! You just wait!”

Kili got her into the altered gown, and then sat her between us to play with Troli’s doll. A new toy was a novelty after so long of just finger puppets and a squeaky ball, and she hugged it and subjected it to the same gumming that had so bedraggled her old toys.

“It’s me who can’t wait any longer,” I sat next to Kili. “Tell me about what you and Dís said this afternoon.”

Kili’s weariness vanished in a wide grin. “I’m so proud of myself that I won’t even try to claim confidentiality to my nosy wife. I didn’t just face her down, Tauriel. I took the battle to her.”

“Tell me, then!” I reached forward to jostle him by the shoulders. “What did you say?”

“I asked her if the king of Erebor is required to be a pureblood Dwarf.”

I blinked and my mouth fell open. “Oh, Valar; you _were_ audacious. What did she say?”

His grin faded into a satisfied smile. “That ruffled her feathers, to be sure, and she tried to imply that I insulted her, but I told her I asked about statecraft, not scandal, and didn’t care who or what my father was. She didn’t answer me, of course. So I observed that if the law requires pure blood, she’d have to prove it given the way I look, which she might find unpleasant. Even if half blood were enough, the feud with the Woodland Realm mean that our folk would not like a king who might be half Elven, and would like one with a Woodland Realm wife and child to boot even less. Then I asked her why this was so important to her, but you joined us before she answered.”

“My apologies, _a’maelamin_.”

He shook his head quickly. “No need. I don’t think she intended to answer me in any case. I didn’t use the diverting words you suggested, but I did my best to sound like an adult. I didn’t say anything about my personal likes or dislikes.”

I nodded agreement. “You reasoned well about issues of governance, not personal preference, and Dís must recognize the truth in everything you said. Well done!”

Kili’s grin waxed wide again. “Something good did come out of spending five weeks with Orcs, _amrâlimê_. Compared to them, my mother doesn’t scare me.”

I made a face. “That was hard-won bravery, Kili.”

He grimaced. “Truth. But it’s over.”

I retrieved Míriel’s doll and put it back in her hands, for it had fallen out of reach. When I chuckled, Kili tried to catch my eye. “What is it, Tauriel?”

“After the archery and knife-throwing games, I watched the Dwarves’ axe-throwing game. There was a lot of swearing, much of it very funny, and I think I understand why so many folk think Dwarves are disagreeable.”

“A lot of them are,” Kili snickered.

“A lot of them are,” I echoed. “But swearing is a form of art to Dwarves, it seems. So I worried that perhaps I had given you bad advice to use evasive words to treat with your mother, because it is un-Dwarflike, and perhaps she would think less of you if you used that tack. Maybe it would be better if two of you just shouted at each other. But you combined the firmness of a Dwarf with the reason of a general, the far view of an Elf, and the confidence of a wizard, and you kept to the objective rules of ascension, not personal innuendo. All this was direct, but you still left her unable to argue with you. I am impressed.” Then I mimicked Kili’s impish look. “You might make a good king, after all.”

“Never,” Kili shook his head adamantly, but he smiled at my joke. “Never and a day. The only thing I ever want to be king of is the heart of my _amrâlimê_.”

“You are already king of that, as I hope I am queen of yours.”

“Of course.” He kissed my hand and smiled affectionately, then leaned forward to kiss my lips – only to freeze half way.

“Your back,” I winced in sympathy.

He muttered something under his breath in _Khazuduhl_ , drawing my smile. “I am very tired of being an invalid, unable to kiss my wife, much less indulge her in more passionate pursuits, or myself. I can’t even lie down properly.”

“You are improving quickly,” I offered in commiseration. “With any luck, Rhiannel and Giriel have reached Imladris, and are asking for medicines to ease you from the apothecary. They might be back as soon as tomorrow.”

Kili stood to take off his pants, then eased out of his shirt with careful movements. He arranged himself on his side facing me, watching in silence as I put Míriel and her doll in her nest amid her gowns. I dimmed the lamp and set it by the hearth for Fallin and Drennal, undressed to my underthings, and lay beside Kili. He had arranged a folded blanket under his head and another to prop under his arm so as to not stretch the skin on his back. I stroked his hair, his cheek, his lips. He was still too raw and sore for much else, but if we could not indulge our bodies, we could at least savor the silence together. Kili’s eyes closed, but he interlaced his fingers with mine, and drew our hands to his chest.

“I hope Rhiannel makes a good tale to Lord Elrond,” I murmured softly.

“I wonder why _Maamr_ persists in wanting me on the throne. She’s too good a counselor not to see that everything we both have said to her are truth.”

I loosed my fingers from Kili’s and stroked his arm slowly. At least there was part of him that I could touch without causing him pain, and such gentle touching soothed us both. He hummed in enjoyment, smiling as he relaxed.

“I’d like to be half Dwarf, half Elf,” he murmured sleepily.

“How so?”

He smiled again. “Drennal told me a story about Lord Elrond. She said that his mother was an Elf, but his father was a Man. He had a twin brother, too. The Half-Elven were given a choice of whether to live as Men or as Elves. Lord Elrond chose to live as an Elf, while his brother chose to live as a Man. Maybe that choice isn’t offered to one who is half Dwarf and half Elf, but if it is, I’d choose to live as an Elf because I’d have so many more years with you.”

I had no idea if Drennal’s story were true, and if so, whether Kili would be given such a choice, and how such a choice would be offered. If it weren’t true, then one day I would have to tell Kili goodbye when he went where I couldn’t follow. I refused to think about that, not so soon after he had returned to me.

“I would like that very much, _a’maelamin_. Sleep well.”

“Beside you? Always, _amrâlimê_.”

Kili fell asleep quickly, but once again, I lay beside him for some time, listening to him breathe, feeling his warmth. I wondered how much time would pass before lying beside him lost its grace.

 

* * *

 

Up and down, up and down, up and down, the rhythmic sway of a Warg’s loping stride, the bite of a lash, consuming thirst under a hot sun, the press of the ground against my chest and a taloned hand on my back as an Orc kicked my legs apart –

Oh, Valar, Valar, not that, not that! The stench and slime of blood, the gleam of a Warg’s fangs, the rasp of her rough tongue against flayed skin, I name you Grimmaz, my fierce one, ware the Orc –!

I jerked awake, panting as if I’d run for miles and as soaked as if I’d jumped in a river. I was thirsty, hot, cold. Scared. My back was on fire. My heart pounded in my chest like a hammer on an anvil. When a cool hand fell on my shoulder, I spasmed away with a gasp.

“ _Thrakuz-lat skator-u_!” I snarled.

“The Orcs are dead, Kili. You are not their captive any longer. You are here with me, _amrâlimê_.”

That was Tauriel’s voice, quiet and soothing, and her cool hand on my shoulder, steadying me. Oh, Valar, I’d had another night terror. It wasn’t truth, just another night terror. The Orcs were dead, I was alive and healing, and I was in our Orc Spawn tent with Tauriel. I got my eyes open in time to see Drennal hand Tauriel a cup of water. Tauriel stroked my arm again.

“You’re awake, Kili. You’re awake. Can you sit up? I have water for you.”

I let a moment pass while my heart slowed and my breathing calmed. The stench of my fear was overpowering, but fading. I was on my back, which explained why it hurt so terribly, so I rolled over. The pressure of my own weight had been excruciating, and even as I struggled to sit up, the pain stubbornly refused to fade. I took the cup of water and gulped it thirstily, hoping it would calm the nausea that roiled my stomach. Dwarves didn’t spew, I told myself. Nothing made us sick, not even night terrors. Not thirst across the steppe. Not buggering Orcs. Not even that.

My stomach was slow to listen.

Eventually, I calmed. Tauriel kneeled by me, stroking my arm, and beyond her, Drennal held the water bottle and Fallin held Míriel. All three of them watched me with worry clear on their faces. I held up a hand, mute assurance that I was awake and aware.

“I’m sorry.”

“There is no reason for you to apologize,” Tauriel protested in distress. “You have endured a terrible ordeal. It is only normal for your sleep to be disturbed.”

“That doesn’t mean I like disturbing everyone around me,” I retorted. “I hate wasting another single second of my life thinking about those _kurvanug undur kurv snagaz.”_

Ugly, fucking, bastard slaves, I called them. I thought worse than that, but I kept the words unspoken given how worried my friends looked. I got to my knees, gritting my teeth, but Tauriel reached out to help me.

“I’m all right, Tauriel.”

“No you are not,” she said, and the worry on her face shamed me. She wanted only to help me, and I was angry because I wished I didn’t need her help.

“No,” I snapped. “I’m not. But it’s not your doing, and neither is easing it. I need a bath.”

I struggled into my pants, grabbed our bag of bathing things, and ducked out of our tent without meeting anyone’s eyes. I didn’t want to see the sympathy in them.

Outside, the air was misty, the sky looked heavy enough to rain all day, and the earth was cooler from the dew. The slight breeze felt good on my overheated skin as I picked my way slowly to the river. I found the flat rock where I usually bathed, and stripped off my pants and smalls to wash. I couldn’t bend well without hurting, so the result was more slapdash than I wanted, but it was enough to cool me a bit and wash away the stink of dreaming Dwarf. I dried and dressed, and then sat for a while. I hated Krugnash and Berqk for torturing me even after their deaths by invading my thoughts. After Fili had rescued me from that dark garrison room where five Dwarves had almost buggered me, it had taken months for my night terrors to fade. The Orcs had been worse, so it might be longer before I slept well. I swallowed more curses.

I crammed the soap, washrag, and towel back in the bag, and struggled upright. My back was afire, but there was nothing short of poppy that would cool it, and I wanted no part of that. If I thought my dreams were bad now, poppy would show me ones even worse.

I’d have to wait out my wounds. When they healed enough that I could sleep without pain, then my dreams might calm.

That was not much comfort, and scant hope, but I trudged back from the river with gritted teeth. I’d survived the Orcs. I’d survive my dreams about them, too.

As I returned, Niri stood to greet me. “Good morn, Kili. Would you have tea with me?”

I wasn’t fit company, but I didn’t want to go back to the Orc Spawn’s tent yet. I wasn’t calm enough to make a good apology to my comrades or my wife. I kneeled by the fire, staying as straight as I could to ease the healing skin.

“I thank you,” I said, taking the teacup from him and sipping it. It was typical northern Dwarvish tea, brewed so strong and black as to be nearly solid, a lump of sheep’s butter floating in it, and hot as fire. I’d hated it the first hundred times I’d had it, and then winter had come and I learned to savor it first for its warmth, then for its vigor, and finally for the richness of the butter that eased the bitter taste. It wasn’t winter, but I still welcomed the flavor.

“Hard night?” Niri asked quietly.

I nodded.

“Dreams, or sweats?”

“Both. The first causes the second. Then I rolled over on my back, and...”

He winced. “Drink your tea while I take a look.”

Half the Dwarves in the camp would see the ruin of my back if he tended me by the fire, but I was too discouraged to care. I pulled my mussed braids over my chest as Niri set to work. The bandages came off easily, but I was surprised when removing the poultice was bearable. Niri cleaned everything carefully, and set to oiling the welts with the last of the lavender oil.

“The last welts have closed, you’ll be happy to know. They’ve all scabbed over nicely, and the oil will keep them pliable until the new skin forms. You don’t need the poultice any more. I’ve wrapped the lot to keep them from the sun and from sticking to your shirt, and of course you need to guard against bumps. You can bathe in another couple of days, assuming your friends return with more of the lavender oil.”

I grunted, but even the good prognosis didn’t ease my depression.

Niri regarded me as he put his bag away and took up his tea. “Your dreams are bad.”

I nodded. “I know I’m here, Niri. When I’m awake, I know it’s over, and I’m here. But when I sleep, I go back there, and then I wake up in a panic, and snap at my wife for worrying about me because I wish I didn’t make her worry about me. I hate doing that to her.”

Niri leaned over the fire, dished up porridge, and passed the bowl to me. “Don’t worry about Tauriel. She’s a warrior. Little rattles her for long, and she’s bonded to you past anyone or anything undoing it.”

My grin was as bitter as my tea. “My mother won’t like to hear you say so.”

Niri dished up his own porridge and squatted beside the fire to eat it. “Still pressing you about Erebor, eh?”

I nodded. “It’s a stupid idea, Niri. I’m not a king. I don’t know why _Maamr_ is being so stubborn about it. Usually she’d be the first one telling me to step aside for the good of our folk.”

“Have you asked her?”

I nodded. “And not a word did I get from her. Do you know?”

Niri rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. “No.”

“Not surprising.” I took a swallow of tea. “ _Maamr’s_ as closemouthed as a vault without a key.”

Niri chuckled softly. “Maybe you should ask her why.”

“Why what?”

“Why she’s so closemouthed. If she’s always been like that, and not just about who your father was, then ask her why.”

“Because she’s led our folk for so long when Uncle Thorin was away, I imagine. Privy to the secrets of the realm, scattered though it is, past history, old feuds and alliances, that short of thing.”

“Privy to more secrets than those of the realm, maybe.”

I looked at Niri over my porridge bowl. “Meaning what?”

Niri shook his head as he slurped his porridge. “I don’t know.”

I snorted. “You’re a lot of help.”

His grin was pleased. “I thank you kindly.”

“For nothing.”

“Look, Kili. I know that you and Tauriel have given Dís a rasher of reasons why you being the king of Erebor is a bad idea. You’re right that she’s a good counselor, and has led our folk well when your uncle was out and about. She was better at some bits of it than your uncle, to be honest. So there’s got to be a reason why she’s stuck on this. Don’t ask her why she’s so set on it. Ask her why you being the king would be good for our folk. Make her prove that her statecraft is better than yours.”

I thought about that for several mouthfuls of porridge. “Hmm. So far, all she’s said is that it’s my heritage as Uncle Thorin’s heir. I told her that an accident of birth shouldn’t trump a fitter ruler, which is what Dain is. Do you think she might know something about Dain?”

Niri sipped his tea. “I wouldn’t think so. Dain’s about as subtle as that boar he rides. I can’t think of any scandal that would taint him, but I’m not one who’d know.”

“Do you know who my father was?”

Niri’s sharp brown eyes met mine. “I don’t, lad. I don’t know anyone who does. Never heard a breath of truth, just the rumors of Elvish blood given the way you look. But you and Fili were so much alike that I dismissed them. Fili didn’t look anything like an Elf.”

“He wrote poetry,” I murmured.

“He never!” Niri’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

I nodded. “Not bad poetry, either.”

Niri whistled softly. “What, like what the Elf maids were singing last night around the fire?”

“He never set any of it to music, but now that I’ve heard enough of the Elvish stuff, a lot of Fili’s verses were just as good.”

That gave Niri something to think about. “So if both of you are mixed, what does that mean?”

“I’d think it means that _Maamr_ had a long-standing partner who fathered both of us. I wasn’t the result of a festival dalliance.”

“I wouldn’t think that’d matter now, given that Fili’s gone.”

“Nor I.”

Niri finished his tea. “It’s a puzzle, right enough.”

“She won’t speak of it if I ask her straight out. But maybe she’ll say something if I ask her about why she’s so intent on my ruling.”

“I wish you luck, lad.”

I swallowed the last bit of my tea. “I’ll need it, and for more than talking to my mother. I’ve got to apologize to Tauriel and my mates for snapping at them this morning.”

Niri smiled. “These Elves are graceful folk and slow to take offense, I’ve noticed. Not like some I’ve met. They’ll have already forgiven you by the time you talk to them.”

I nodded. “They will. Which is all the more reason why I should apologize. They are the best of comrades.”

“Not like a rasher of rowdy, restive Dwarves,” Niri laughed, and raised a hand in farewell.

 “I thank you for the tea and porridge,” I raised a hand in reply, collected my bag, and headed back to the tent.

Halfway back, I spotted Drennal and Fallin walking towards the field where our horses and rams grazed. I called to them, and made my apologies for waking in such a temper. Niri was right that they smiled to see me in better spirits, and then assured me that they’d look after Trellennan for me when they saw to the rest of our horses. I thanked them for their help, for their firm friendship, and for overlooking the snarls of Dwarves. They laughed, and continued on their way. I continued on to the tent.

Tauriel was outside, shaking out blankets. Míriel sat in the doorway, protected from the mist that was turning into a soft drizzle. We would not hold any festival games today, unless some of the Dwarves decided to wrestle in the mud. That would be vastly entertaining, but given that I couldn’t yet get my back wet, I would have to miss it. Perhaps I could make a stew or flatbread or some such thing, seeing as how I’d been eating the efforts of others without stint for the past four days, and it was time for me to take my share of the chores. First, though, I wanted to apologize to Tauriel.

When she saw me, she finished shaking the blanket, tossed it back inside the tent, and came to me.

“ _A’maelamin_ , you look much refreshed. And Niri changed your bandages.”

I nodded as I took her hands to kiss them. “I feel much better. I’m sorry for railing at you, Tauriel. None of this is your fault, and I wish I hadn’t snapped.”

“Thank you,” she acknowledged, and bent to kiss me. “I cannot imagine what it must be like to wake from such a horrible dream, not know where I am, and have to sort through whether I should draw my knives or speak softly to a friend in the space of a heartbeat. And you rolled over on your back, which must have been agony. I am sorry that these dreams plague you. But I will help you as best I can.”

“I know you will,” I stared at the ground. “That’s the worst part. You don’t deserve to be the one I snap at.”

“If it would make you feel better, I could learn some Dwarvish profanity, so I can yell back at you when you wake up cursing.”

Her lips curved up a bit, and I basked in that self-possessed smile. “Better not. It might sound like Black Speech, and then where would you be? Maybe you should try cursing in Quenya.”

“There aren’t any comparable curses in Quenya, Kili, as you well know. Elvish insults are more subtle, and likely not useful to help you wake up from a night terror.”

“Truth,” I agreed. “I much prefer waking up to a beautiful Elf maid speaking soft, soothing Quenya, anyway, even when I don’t always manage to say so.”

“Are you hungry? I have porridge.”

“Niri fed me, but I can always find space for more. Are you cleaning?”

“Just airing the blankets before the rain starts. Drennal and Fallin are seeing to the horses, and the Dwarves are rigging lengths of canvas under the trees against the rain so we can make a cook fire. Many of them want to play water games today, so I offered to watch the soup.”

“I want to help, too,” I offered as Tauriel shook the last blanket. “I can stir.”

We talked about what sort of soup to make, and I explained the Dwarves’ rainy day games of keep away ball and mud wrestling. Tauriel was happy to hear Niri’s report about my back, and interested in his questions about what drove my mother’s urge to make me king. I had more porridge, and helped tidy the tent, and then we played with Míriel. She’d taken to Troli’s little doll so much that her finger puppets were neglected, so we took the doll with us when we headed to the cook shelter. As I set Míriel down on her blanket with her doll, Troli came over on his way to the river. He was ecstatic to see her tussle with his gift, and burble to it as if it were an old friend. When he pretended to sneak it away, she held onto it tightly, all the while fussing at him with great enthusiasm.

“That’s her new favorite toy, Troli, so try to take it at your peril,” Tauriel teased him. That pleased him so much that he resumed his way to the river with a spring in his step.

The rain remained gentle and steady throughout the afternoon and evening. Drennal and Fallin braved the rain to watch some of the water games before joining us to keep the food going. We kept adding things to the pot as folk filled bowls to eat, so there was a steady supply all day. I stayed busy cooking batches of Bilbo’s biscuits on a flat rock set on the coals, and we had a big kettle for tea, so no one went hungry. I envied the Dwarves playing water games; I would have liked to play keep away ball with them. Then I thought about soaking with Tauriel in the cool water, and nearly burned a batch of biscuits. Oh and oh, I would be glad to reach home with our bathing chamber and a door to shut out the rest of Middle Earth!

The water sports were so vigorous that Niri was kept busy all afternoon looking after bruises, sprains, knocked heads, and banged knees. Drennal and Fallin braved the rain to go back to our tent and indulge themselves, another thing I wished I could do, but I wasn’t healed enough yet. I supposed it was a good sign of my recovery that I thought about such things, but not being able to act on them was no help. I told myself that I needed only a few more days before I could dispense with bandages, and remedy the lack of bathing and coupling.

The Dwarves finally wore themselves out in the river, and the cook shelter was crowded as everyone crammed under it for supper. We were just about to bank the fire and disperse to our tents when someone called out for silence. Riders were approaching. Knives and swords rang out of scabbards, and axes leaped into ready hands.

“Greetings to all Dwarves and Elves!” came the call.

Out of the wet came Giriel and Rhiannel. Both were soaked and muddy, but Giriel was grinning.

“Where’s Niri?” she called, pulling a big bag off her horse. “I have a lot of packets for you, and a box of cakes big enough for everyone!”

As the Dwarves gathered around her, Rhiannel slipped to my side. Tauriel was with us in an instant.

“What news?” Tauriel whispered eagerly.

Rhiannel smiled. “We will have guests tomorrow evening.”

“Lord Elrond?” I asked.

When Rhiannel nodded, his smile waxed even broader. “And several Elves. At least twenty. And a certain wizard.”

Tauriel threw her arms around Rhiannel and gave him the biggest hug I’d ever seen one Elf give another. If I’d been any taller, I would have given him one just as big.


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Here's a good, long chapter this time. Dis ruminates, Giriel and Rhiannel have tales to tell, Kili's feeling better, the Dwarves go fishing, and more Elves are on the way. Miriel thinks all the stir is just for her :-).
> 
> Hope you enjoy the bustle as our friends prepare for the first ever Combined Elvish/Dwarvish Steppe Festival!

_Eighty-four Years Earlier_

_The firedrake from the north hadn’t started it. Dís was sure of that, no matter what the rest of the family said. Her father’s birth hadn’t started it, either. Had it begun with her grandfather’s birth, then? No, perhaps not that far back. Perhaps it was the coming of the firedrake that had killed Thr_ _ór’s father, D_ _áin, and his brother, Fr_ _ór, and driven Thr_ _ór and his remaining brother Gr_ _ór out of the Grey Mountains. Yes, that was it. Grór had turned towards the Iron Mountains for a new home for his many followers. Thr_ _ór could have gone with him, but instead he’d returned to the Lonely Mountain, to Erebor, and called himself the new King under the Mountain._

_That had been the start of it. Thrór had the mines going again in a heartbeat, even before everyone was settled. Then the gem vaults, the silver veins, the mithril deposits. The jewelers and smiths had worked three shifts to turn the flow of raw materials into a flood of coins, ingots, bracelets, rings, necklets, and no end of baubles and trinkets and fancy dress weapons. They could have made four times the fortune they did selling such things to the Men and Elves around them. Oh, they’d sold many, but most went to feed the treasury, which in turn fed Thrór’s bane._

_Gold sickness._

_The higher the pile of gleaming metal grew in the vaults of Erebor, the hotter the sickness for more burned in Thrór’s breast, and then in the breast of her father, Thrain. When the vaults could hold no more, the Dwarves piled the riches on the treasury floor until it spread as far as the eye could see, like grains of sand that made a beach – or a trove so vast that the smell and taste of it drew another firedrake. Dís was only ten when Smaug claimed Erebor, but she still remembered the smell of the firedrake’s flames, of burning flesh, of Dwarvish terror. No matter how many years passed, she could conjure that smell out of nothing more than wood smoke and dark imagination. Even after years of struggling to make a home for herself and her folk in the Blue Mountains, she remembered that smell. Dragon fire was what gold sickness smelled like._

_When she turned thirty, the smell of gold sickness changed. Thrór lusted after Moria, and died by Azog’s hand in front of the gates of the old stronghold, his body defiled by the Orc, and so the smell of gold sickness became dragon fire mixed with the stench of Orcs. Nine years later, at the battle of Azanulbizar, her younger brother, Frerin, died. Balin’s father, Fundin, died. N_ _áin, Thrór’s companion who had seen him killed, died. Her older brother, Thorin, barely survived when he seized a stout oak limb to stave off the Orcs’ savagery. So many more died that Moria remained in the hands of Orcs._

_Her mother’s talk of duty started then, but Dís refused to heed her, until her mother stopped speaking of it. After all, Thorin survived, and there was time._

_Years passed, and Dís settled with her folk in the Blue Mountains. Thorin was often gone, gathering their scattered people, scraping a living as a smith... brooding, too, more times than not. He should have stayed with her in the Blue Mountains more than he did, for ruling was his right before hers. But for all Thorin was a charismatic warrior, he was no peacetime ruler, and he too often fell into depression at the grinding details of making destitute refugees into a community again. Too often, he thought about lost Erebor. When the memories grew too painful, he would hare off again, leaving the business of community to her, his coregent._

_When Orcs captured Thrain and imprisoned him in Dol Guldur, never to be seen by Dwarvish eyes again, Thorin sank even deeper into his brooding._

_Dís’s mother began to speak about duty again. Aulë take her, how much more did she expect Dís to give? Perhaps overreaching ambition drove the dams of Durin the way gold sickness drove the sires. Between her own compassion for her people and her mother’s poking and prodding, Dís had long since given up thought of a life of her own. With one brother dead and the other frequently gone, she became the counselor, the governor, the guiding hand of the Blue Mountain Dwarves. There was no one else, and so she served._

_“There’s no one else to do it!” her mother argued, as shrilly as ever. “Thorin’s not going to do it, is he? He’s never here, is he? That leaves you, lass! You!”_

_“Is nothing mine,_ Maamr _?” she shouted back. “I’ve governed, I’ve guided, I’ve kept the memory of the dead long after it should have been let go! There is nothing I have not given to our people whenever anyone has asked it of me! But I will not do this!”_

_“We need heirs! Thorin won’t do it, so it’s up to you!”_

_“What for,_ Maamr _? So more of us can lust after gold, or ambition, as you do? So we can doom our people to perpetual misery by following a line that is so badly flawed? Better that another of D_ _áin’s lines rules than ours!”_

_Her mother slapped her for uttering such blasphemy. “How dare you? The line of Durin is the noblest of –”_

_“Yes, I know! I know! I’ve heard it thousands of times, how the great line of Durin is revered and worshipped! Doesn’t that give you pause? Doesn’t that worry you? The blindness of it? We are folk like all others,_ Maamr _, only as great and as flawed as the rest!”_

 _“We are_ the _line, Dís! We need heirs!”_

 _“If we are_ the _line, then we should take more care than those not of_ the _line to mark our faults,_ Maamr _! We suffer from gold sickness! From Thrór, to Thrain, to Thorin –”_

_“So be grateful Thorin hasn’t produced our heirs! If you are so much more principled, so much more aware of our flaws than the rest of us, then even better that you produce the heirs and be the one to raise them!”_

_“I have given unstintingly of my time, my hands, my heart, and my guidance! My body is not another sacrifice for you to demand!”_

_Her mother laughed. “You don’t have to marry, lass. Better that you don’t, so you don’t have to share the rule. Our folk are not Men to care where a maid finds the means to make a child. Take whoever suits you during the festivals, and then hold silence. You keep your precious control, and as long as our folk have heirs – at least two, and both of them sons – you’ve done your part to end the curse of the gold sickness.”_

_Those callous, calculating words revolted Dís, and she slammed the door behind her when she’d stormed out of her mother’s house. Was she nothing but breeding stock? A mare? A cow?_

_Later that night, Dís did her own brooding. Then she plotted._

 

* * *

 

It was all I could do not to shake Rhiannel for the details of the journey he and Giriel had made to and from Imladris. But the Dwarves had their welcome to make, and our comrades’ announcement of our impending visitors generated much talk and excitement. We couldn’t begrudge our comrades supper and a bath after such a precipitous flight, either. Nor could we put off Giriel’s consultation with Níri about the medicines she had brought, and of course I wanted Kíli to reap the benefit of those new medicines as soon as Níri unpacked them. There was lavender oil in volume, which would surely be needed during our games, a large bundle of willow bark for tea, comfrey leaves to help with broken bones, and several other remedies. Several soothing teas, such as chamomile and valerian, offered ways to ease Kíli’s dreams. Giriel had also brought calendula and plantain to combine with the comfrey leaves and lavender oil to ease Kíli’s healing skin. Níri was quick to slather a mixture of these over Kíli’s wounds, and the relief on my husband’s face was clear. His smile regained some of its brightness as Níri wrapped fresh linen around his torso. We took our leave of the apothecary with many thanks, and several packets of tea in hand.

Now that there was no reason to delay our comrades’ story, I hurried Kíli back to our tent with unseemly haste.

“I feel much better, _amrâlimê_ ,” Kíli teased, walking dutifully behind me, “but I still can’t lie on my back for you to pillage me just yet, so we don’t have to rush.”

“Even if you could, I would wait long enough to hear what Rhiannel and Giriel have to say about Lord Elrond,” I hissed. “Hurry!”

“I’m making all speed, _amrâlimê_.”

“No, you aren’t. I know you can move faster than that. Come on!”

“Yes, _amrâlimê_.”

“Oh, Kíli, you are impossible.”

“I thought I was irrepressible.”

“You are also infuriatingly slow.”

“Yes, _amrâlimê_.”

“Oh, stop it!”

“Yes, _amrâlimê_.”

I turned around to glare at Kíli, who walked very, very slowly behind me, grinning. I put my arms akimbo. “You cannot tell me that you have no interest in hearing what Rhiannel and Giriel have to say about their journey.”

“No, I can’t. But it’s been so long since I’ve seen that bright fire in your eyes, and I wanted to enjoy it.”

“And have you?”

He stopped in front of me, took my shoulders, and drew me down to kiss. “I have. Now, why are you dawdling out here when Rhiannel and Giriel are waiting for us inside? It’s impolite to make folk wait.”

He kissed me again, then ducked inside the tent. I followed him with a muttered word as well as a rueful smile.

“Welcome home!” Kíli was greeting Giriel and Rhiannel by the hearth. “I’ll wager you have a tale to tell us.”

“More than one,” Giriel exhaled, stretching her long legs in front of her and lying back beside Drennal, who had Míriel. The maid tickled the babe’s bare toes, grinning at the laugh she earned. “Oh, Míriel, I’ve missed you so much! You already look different! In just three days!”

“It’s the topknot,” Drennal pointed out. “Thank Kíli for that.”

“I like it,” Giriel said. “It’s a crest for our little bird.”

“The story?” I prompted, folding down next to Fallin. Kíli put the kettle on for tea.

“There are several to tell,” Rhiannel teased. “I hardly know which one to tell first.”

“Just start from the beginning,” I asked. “How was the journey there?”

“Very fast,” Giriel shared a challenging look with Rhiannel, so I suspected that much of it had proceeded at Giriel’s favorite breakneck speed. “The moon was high, and we made good time the first night and the next day. We saw no one on the plain, and rode straight into the city. We looked for Lindir even before we washed, and he took us to Lord Elrond right away. He was very interested in everything that had happened since we left Imladris, so we had a lot to tell him. He was most concerned about you, Kíli, and gravely worried as we told him about your time with the Orcs. He sends you his gladdest good wishes that you are back with us, and are recovering. He gave us a free hand at the apothecary for whatever you needed.”

“I’m honored,” Kíli said simply, but humbleness of his voice and the gratified expression on his face made no secret of his appreciation to the High Lord of Imladris. “And I’m grateful to both you and Rhiannel for making such a mad dash across the plain.”

“That was the most fun I’ve had in ages,” Giriel laughed, rolling over to prop herself up on her elbows. “And I can’t wait to take part in the games tomorrow. We will still have them, yes?”

Kíli nodded. “We most certainly will.”

“Good!” Giriel crowed. “But before that, Rhiannel needs to tell you about the rest of the conversation we had with Lord Elrond, and quickly, before Tauriel is consumed with impatience.”

Rhiannel laughed as he took the tray of teacups that Kíli passed him. “Yes, she is consumed to know the next moves in her chess game with Lady Dís. I hope I have followed your plan to your satisfaction, Tauriel. I put forth all the arguments you told me.”

“Which ones convinced Lord Elrond to come?”

Rhiannel laughed again. “Neither I nor my arguments convinced him, but leave that for a moment. First I will tell you all that I told him.

“My first tack was to stress the greater political possibilities that Tauriel had so carefully noted – courtesy to a fellow ruler, good relations between free folk, and so on. He, of course, replied with suggestions of ceremonies within the city. I explained why we had paused by the river, to give Kíli a chance to recover enough to ride the rest of the way to Imladris. Then I described our steppe festival to pass the time and to garner good relations between Elves and Dwarves. I observed that the festival would benefit from more Elves, for I thought that several of the guard might enjoy games such as when Oteriel had us ride like Orcs, and it would give Lord Elrond and Dís time to get to know one another in a neutral place, neither Dwarvish nor Elvish.”

“Very persuasive, I’d say,” Kíli sipped his tea. “So was he persuaded?”

Giriel snickered. “He didn’t have a chance to say. Mithrandir swept in at that very moment without even knocking, and proceeded to question us as if Lord Elrond had invited him to do so. The lord was quite bemused, as well as amused, and sat back content to listen.”

“What did Gandalf ask?” I asked breathlessly.

“It was as if he already knew all we had told Lord Elrond about our journey and why we’d stopped at the river,” Rhiannel recalled, and Giriel nodded agreement. “He was more interested in whether Dis had pressed Kíli about the throne of Erebor, so I spoke of all Tauriel had told me. On Dís’s side, I told him, there is lineage and tradition. On Kíli’s, there is a fit king in place, then your youth, inexperience, disinclination, claim of unfitness, appearance, bond with Tauriel, marriage to Tauriel, and Míriel.”

“We have another on my side,” Kíli said, kneeling beside me to sip one of the teas Níri had given him. “Dwarvish laws of ascension may require pure blood. If so, and if mine is tainted, my apologies to my fine companions of Elvish descent, then that would preclude me being the king. If not, my blood doesn’t matter, but the feud with the Woodland Elves would cause many Dwarves to view an Elvish-looking king with an Elvish wife, beautiful and charming as she is, with suspicion.”

“He would have been most interested in that,” Rhiannel decided. “When he arrives, you should tell him, for I think he mulls the question of the kingship as much as the business of diplomacy between Elves and Dwarves. I did also speak about the benefits of Kíli remaining in Imladris to ease the Dwarves’ emigration from the Blue Mountains to Erebor – with a subtle observation that Lindir might appreciate such help – and the trade possibilities that could arise with Kíli to go between our folk.”

“Mithrandir quite liked the idea of games,” Giriel said suddenly. “He urged Lord Elrond to take part very strongly.”

“He told me when I last saw him that he likes a good party,” Kíli grinned. “So we’ll make sure we give him one. You said to expect the Elves tomorrow evening?”

Rhiannel and Giriel both nodded. “So we have all day tomorrow to come up with more games, and to hunt, and to cook,” the Elf maid concluded. “The day after, then, we can have our festival at last.”

“We’ve had a lot of festival already,” Kíli told her. “All sorts of water games today in the rain, and archery and knife throwing – Tauriel won that, of course – she and Rhiannel shared the win in the archery game, too – and axe throwing –”

“And swearing,” Drennal added. “That was part of the axe-throwing, but it was hilarious. Dwarvish swearing is much more direct than Quenya. And most emphatic.”

“That’s why Dwarves don’t think Elves swear,” Fallin shook his head ruefully. “They think Quenya is too subtle.”

We conversed only a little longer, for Kíli was tiring, and our two roving emissaries were glad to take the starlight, even if under our tent and with rain still falling gently. We finished our tea, and took to our blankets.

Giriel lingered at the hearth with me as I changed Míriel’s diaper, and handed me Míriel’s clean gown.

“You were right about the bathing chamber,” she whispered when I leaned close. “It was sublime.”

She gave me a gleeful smile before slipping back to rejoin Rhiannel. That gave Kíli and me something to smile about when I lay beside him, and also to anticipate. In a few days, we would reacquaint ourselves with that same sublime delight.

 

* * *

 

As I lay next to Tauriel, it was hard not to worry. The new medicines that Giriel had brought to Níri had felt like cool balm when he’d put them on my burning skin, and for the first time in days I stopped thinking about every careful move before I made it. I’d made one of his teas, too, and had downed two cups of it before I lay down to sleep. I’d woken in a sweat every day since I’d gotten free of the Orcs, and I hoped the tea would stop them. I hated the dreams, of course, but I hated just as much to see Tauriel’s worry, Míriel’s puzzled frown, and my friends’ concern and unhappiness when I woke up.

At least I had some exciting things to think about as I went to sleep tonight. Tomorrow we’d have more games, and Fallin and I had talked about one akin to our Orc-riding contest, where we’d have Dwarves and Elves on each team, and perhaps a ball to pass back and forth rather than trying to unhorse each other. Giriel would add her ideas to that one. We had other games planned as well, and I wanted to think of more to pull the Elves in.

If those were not pleasant enough to think about, I had only to open my eyes to find Tauriel lying beside me, resting but not asleep. I wanted to be home so badly, to sit in our garden with the lamps lit under the trees, to watch the fireflies, to share a glass of wine with my _amrâlimê_ , to savor each other again as we did four months ago. I was not back to my fittest yet, but time with Tauriel would hasten my recovery more than any medicine.

With those thoughts in mind, I relaxed and drifted off.

Morning came, I think. I felt refreshed, but it was still dark. Bodies stirred quietly around me, stealthy sounds in the dimness. Was I dreaming? Was I on the steppe still? No, there was no chain around my neck, and the softness under my head was a blanket, not Grimmaz’s fur. I raised my head, but quickly identified the tent around me, and Tauriel settled nearby with Míriel at her breast. She reached forward at once to touch my leg.

“You’re safe, _a’maelamin_ ,” she whispered, fingers tightening on my leg. “You’re with me, Kíli.”

“I am,” I murmured. I sat up to look around, then back at Tauriel suckling Míriel. I’m sure my smile looked silly, but I was too relieved to hide it. “I know I’m _here_. I didn’t dream, Tauriel. I knew where I was when I woke up, and I looked around to make sure, and here I still am.”

Tauriel’s smile was as wide as mine. She looked so beautiful with our happy daughter at her breast, her red hair tumbled around her, and her emerald green eyes so bright, that I rolled to my hands and knees, crawled to her side, and planted a very large kiss on her lips.

“My _a’maelamin_ ,” she whispered, kissing me back. “How is your back?”

I flexed carefully, and while it was tender, it didn’t hurt a fraction of what it had before this morning, not even enough to make me wince. “It’s good. Still a bit tender, but I can move again, and stretch carefully.”

“Good.” How did Tauriel manage to put so much love and relief in a single word? “You must tell Níri this morning that the new herbs and teas worked very well.”

“Later. First, I am going to show my beautiful wife how much I love her.”

“There are others in the tent.”

“We’re in our blankets. They’ll mind their manners. Now, put Míriel in her nest, or I will.”

Míriel found herself summarily put in her bag of gowns. Tauriel found herself underneath me immediately after, my hands quickly breaching the fastenings of her clothes. I didn’t have to pull off my smalls, as Tauriel had done that while I was busy with her laces. Then I was in, she twined her legs around mine, and in less time than it took to tell it, we were off to the moon. Neither of us lasted but seconds, and we managed to keep that sweet moment of release silent. Even Tauriel’s chuckle afterwards was silent.

“You feel better,” she teased.

I squeezed her shoulders with my hands and her hips with my thighs, and nuzzled kisses across her collarbone. “You feel divine,” I sighed, gazing at her. “It’s not a proper pillaging I’ve given you, but it’s a start.”

“It is a blessed start. You are yourself again.”

“Not entirely,” I suckled both of her breasts briefly. “I need to work on my endurance.”

“We will give it our first attention as soon as we get home.” She kissed my ear, pulling its ring gently with her lips. “Are Giriel and Rhiannel still in the tent?”

I looked over surreptitiously. “They didn’t see anything, _amrâlimê_. They’re too busy with their own pursuits.”

Tauriel smothered amusement. “Then our tent has been well blessed. It has seen three pairs couple with great delight.”

“It’s about time I felt better, then, isn’t it? I would have been disappointed not to add our blessing to the home that’s served us so well. Here, I’ll fetch us a wet cloth and a towel.”

I eased off Tauriel. Our comrades were still intent on each other, so I didn’t bother to find clothes just to wet a cloth with water from the teapot sitting on the cold hearth. I got one of Míriel’s diapers from her bag, for she was back with Tauriel to finish her breakfast. By the time I’d cleaned off and resumed my smalls, Míriel was finished, so I patted her back while Tauriel tended to herself. In a few minutes, we were clothed and ready for breakfast. It wasn’t strictly required, but given the Elves’ recent acquaintance with tent living, Tauriel and I didn’t settle at our hearth, but outside on a blanket with Míriel to enjoy our porridge and tea. About halfway through, we heard signs that our comrades had greatly enjoyed themselves. I raised my eyebrows, drawing Tauriel’s chuckle.

“Perhaps Miri will have two playmates next year,” she said.

“I told Lord Elrond to move the fancy crockery out of the way,” I agreed. “That was good advice for more than us – for Drennal and Fallin, too. Where are they this morning?”

“Drennal has spent a great deal of time with her horse and mine. Both were injured when we rescued you. Jalsin bruised a hip when she made such an impossible leap over the Orc’s scimitar when he tried to break her legs. Yasalin was badly clawed on his hindquarters. A few of the rams were also clawed, so she and the Dwarvish drover, Bidfir, have worked together to tend them. That’s where she is this morning. Fallin is off with the hunters to replenish our fresh meat. He and Ferrisch have enjoyed hunting together.”

“They’re both good leaders,” I noted. “They have a lot in common, now that I think about it. I hope Ferrisch doesn’t come to like our friend so much that he head butts him, though. Fallin will have a sore head for a week.”

Tauriel laughed, but she winced at the same time, thinking of how hard Dwarvish heads were. “When you greet the Dwarves who stop in Imladris on their way to Erebor, you must read them a list of things not to do to Elves, such as head butting.”

“I’ll need a list for the Elves, too, such as don’t take offense when a Dwarf calls you a right bastard. That’s just a friendly term of admiration. But if someone calls you a bloody maggot, that’s an insult, and you’re allowed to curse back.”

“Ask Drennal to help you with that second list,” Tauriel advised me. “She seems fascinated by the whole idea of cursing, and can likely give you pointers on the Elvish equivalents.”

“Giriel, too. Are you done with your porridge, _amrâlimê_? I’ll rinse the bowls if you are.”

“We need to refill our water bottles and the teapot, too.”

“I’ll fetch the lot, then.”

I ducked inside the tent for the bottles and teapot, amused to note that Rhiannel had succeeded quite well in finally getting Giriel to hold still. It must have been the bathing chamber that Tauriel had whispered about last night. That had certainly gotten my attention when Tauriel had introduced it to me so many months ago, and I couldn’t wait to get back to ours. A week, perhaps, and we’d be there. In the meantime, our tent had sheltered us well.

We made our leisurely way down to the river, meeting several Dwarvish fishermen on the bank. They’d already pulled in several trout, which boded well for luncheon, so we passed them by with a wave and moved downstream so as not to upset the angling. It was cool under the willows as we filled our bottles and kettle, rinsed our bowls, and let Míriel splash for a few moments before we headed back to the tent.

The sun would come out strongly today, and out on the plain, away from the shady trees, it would be hot and dry – perfect to practice our cavalry maneuvers for tomorrow’s games. I hoped that I’d be ahorse for them, but I had an apothecary and a wife to satisfy that I wouldn’t die of the exertion first, so after Tauriel and I returned our things to the tent, we looked for Níri to give his opinion of how well I was healing.

Oh and oh, I’d left my mother off the list of folk who would have an opinion about me riding today. She was making the rounds of the Dwarves like the good counselor she was, chatting and laughing. I waved to her, and she waved back with seeming pleasure, though I had to think that she wasn’t pleased at all the things I’d dragged up since we’d seen each other again. Even so, she joined us outside Níri’s tent just as the apothecary was unwrapping the linen from my torso. I sat on the rock Níri had lugged up from the river as a stool for his patients, facing away from the tent, but after nodding to me, she moved behind me to stand with Níri and Tauriel to watch the unveiling.

“Oh, Kíli,” _Maamr_ gulped. I winced, not because my back hurt, but because of my mother’s tone. She’d want to vote against me riding. I didn’t tell her that only Tauriel had that privilege.

“It looks much better,” Tauriel said firmly. Perhaps that was a vote for me riding. Likely not.

“It does,” Níri agreed, carefully peeling away comfrey leaves. “Every wound is well closed now, and nothing weeps. Do you think you can stand to bathe in the river? Or maybe you want to stew a while longer in your own juices, eh?”

“It’d be no joy to me, but I suppose I should, just to be kind to my wife,” I replied with an exaggerated sigh. “I suffer mightily on her account.”

“So I’ve noticed,” was Níri’s wry reply. “Dís, would you hold the winsome lass while Tauriel and I set this lad to rights?”

“With pleasure.” I didn’t have to see _Maamr’s_ face to know she smiled. If she wasn’t happy about me, she was about Míriel. “Come, my sweet bairn. We’ll go watch the cooks for a while.”

Oh, how wonderful it was to strip off pants, smalls, and boots, and wade into the soft water! How much more wonderful it was to dip slowly down, letting that gentle water flow around me, over my back, and into my hair! There was no pain, only coolness. Just when I thought nothing could feel better, Tauriel handed me soap and a soft sponge, and I reveled in the simple delight of bathing. She and Níri lounged on the flat rock I’d used as a bathing platform to watch. I savored being able to scrub soap through my hair and mane until I was so clean that I squeaked. Then Níri and Tauriel ever so gently washed my back with their bare fingers so as not to risk my healing skin. I was sorry when they were done, but clambered back to shore much refreshed.

When I was clean and dry, Níri gave each scar a thorough study as he painted it with lavender oil. He showed Tauriel how to massage in the oil to keep the scars from drying out. Her touch was so light that it was almost a tickle, and I enjoyed her attention as well as her care.

“You’re hardly worth my time, now,” Níri pronounced, when Tauriel had massaged the last scar with the oil. “I can’t keep wasting bandages on you when we’ll need them for all the wounded in tomorrow’s games. Keep a shirt on so the sun stays off your back. You’ll know when you can lie on it again. And Tauriel, you use that oil on him three times a day for another few days.”

I shared a grin with him. “I’m not worth your time now, am I? Good. That means I’ll be good to ride this afternoon in the practice games.”

Níri snorted. “If you had to ride in a battle, I’d say yes, though putting armor on that back of yours would tell you what a fool you are better than I could. For today’s practice games, I’d say to save yourself for something worth riding for. You won’t listen, so I’ll say you can ride briefly to remind yourself how, and save the rest for tomorrow’s games.”

Tauriel chuckled. “Níri is very experienced in treating Dwarves, is he not, _a’maelamin_?”

I refused to rise to Tauriel’s observation. I was too excited to be able to get back on Trellennan. “I hope you are still experienced in how to saddle my horse. I had to leave my box at home.”

“If I said no, you would find a way to do it yourself, so of course I will oblige you.”

The rest of the morning flew by, as many of us planned games for tomorrow. The hunters returned with several antelope and sheep for our guests, and I helped to dress and butcher the meat for roasting and stewing. After a delicious trout luncheon, the Orc Spawn and most of the Dwarves assembled on horseback to try out our game maneuvers. Our first few flights were at a walk, as we worked out how the horses and rams should move together. As we came more to speed, I blessed Trellennan for his skill at following my voice and legs so well, so I didn’t have to do a lot of rein work. When we went to full field combat speed, I was having too much fun to stop, even when long-idle muscles protested. I did act as field judge when we began an actual game, but only because no one would take a swing at me. So I had to content myself with running around on Trellennan shouting at a lot of mad Dwarves and Elves as they heaved a ball back and forth. After a couple of hours, I was well ready for another bath, and so was everyone else.

The river was a busy place once the horses and rams were tended. Tauriel and I brought Míriel with us to enjoy the water. The Dwarves got into a massive bout of splashing again, which Míriel thought was all for her entertainment, and laughed so hard she got the hiccups. The splashing stopped abruptly as one of the cooks ran down to us.

“Get yer fat, ugly asses dry and dressed, you right bastards! Them Elves are coming in, and if you don’t look sharp, I’ll feed them all the vittles!”

In half a moment, the river was nothing but ripples and soaked rocks, and there was a lot of racket descending on the tents. Giriel waded up to us.

“It amazes me how fast they move at the mention of food,” she marveled, as we walked up the bank.

“You should see them when anyone mentions a fight,” I snickered. “They’d be mounted and off to the line before they remembered to put on clothes.”

Our tent was full of Elves drying, dressing, and braiding. It was too hot to wear much other than tunics and either trews or leggings, but Tauriel and I did take care with our braids, and Míriel wore her best gown that still fit. She looked around with bright eyes, once again convinced that all of the bustling was solely to delight her. I put her on my shoulder, something that I had not been able to do for several days, and rubbed noses with her as we ducked out of the tent and headed to the east edge of our encampment.

Out on the plain, tall Elvish horses of black, brown, and grey drew closer. There was Lord Elrond at the head of the group in silver armor, and beside him was the familiar grey robe and pointed hat of Gandalf. Eighteen tall Elves rode behind him with blue and gold banners fluttering and streaming. I recognized Lindir, Oteriel, and several of the guardsmen that the Orc Spawn rode with regularly, maids as well as lads. I handed Míriel back to Tauriel and offered her my arm.

“All right, lads!” I called to the Dwarves as we assembled. “Lord Elrond is the lord of the city of Rivendell and all these lands, all right? You give him the same courtesy as you do Lady Dís. You can kiss the maids’ fingers if they offer them to you, and nothing else. And don’t head butt any of the Elves, or I’ll have your balls!”

That was met with laughter, both Elvish and Dwarvish, even from _Maamr_. Drawing Tauriel with me, I went to _Maamr’s_ side and offered her my free arm.

“Come on, _Maamr_. I’ll introduce you to Lord Elrond, the Grey Wizard, and Master Oteriel. They’re all very nice.”

The Elves drew to a stop, dismounted, and sorted themselves out. Lindir took Lord Elrond’s cuirass, leaving the High Elf dressed as most of the rest of us in a plain tunic, though he wore a simple circlet of gold at his brow. Gandalf stood quietly by, his eyes gleaming a greeting to my companions and me. As Lord Elrond and his folk walked towards us, I drew _Maamr_ and Tauriel with me to meet them.

“Lord Elrond,” I bowed. “Welcome to our gathering. I would like to present my mother, Lady Dís of the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains, sister to Thorin Oakenshield and coregent with him, and cousin to King Dain Ironfoot of Erebor. Lady Dís, may I present Lord Elrond Half-Elven, founder and ruler of Imladris, also known as Rivendell, the Last Homely House West of the Misty Mountains.”

 _Maamr_ bowed as one ruler does to another, offering greeting without subservience. “Lord Elrond. I greet thee gladly.”

“Lady Dís, it is good to meet you and welcome you to our lands,” Lord Elrond put his hand on his heart and bowed just as regally. “May you travel here in peace and ease, and see the best of our lands during your visit.”

 _Maamr_ bowed again. “I thank thee for your generosity.”

“ _Maamr_ , this is Gandalf the Grey, the famous wizard. He makes the most amazing fireworks you’ve ever seen, and does a lot of other wizardly things, too. Gandalf, this is my mother, Lady Dís.”

Gandalf put his hand to his heart and nodded, smiling with great amusement. “Lady Dís, it is good to meet you.”

“And you, Master Gandalf.” My mother looked Gandalf up and down, but afforded him a bow. Wise, that. Even a reckless Dwarf knew that it was prudent to stay on the friendly side of a wizard.

“ _Maamr_ , this is Master Oteriel, Lord Elrond’s Master at Arms. He leads the guardsmen and ensures the safety of the city. Master Oteriel, this is my mother, Lady Dís.”

“Master Oteriel.”

“Lady Dís.”

“Enough of the bowing and pretty words,” one of the Dwarves growled. It was the same cook who’d shouted us out of the river. “Vittles don’t stand on ceremony, y’know.”

Maamr turned around with a glare. “Have the courtesy to let the poor Elves see to their horses, set up their tents, and put off their armor before you announce supper, Gridden! Bank the fire if you have to!”

Lord Elrond chuckled. “By all means, let us dispense with the ceremony. We will see to our mounts and tents with all haste, and then enjoy what I am sure will be a most delicious supper. We brought wine that I’m sure will ease the pain of waiting, too.”

That brought a cheer from the Dwarves, so everyone scattered to help the Elves get settled. Willing hands untacked and groomed the horses and set them out with the rest of our steeds. Folk pitched tents and and unpacked baggage. Chairs were set out under the trees for _Maamr_ , Gandalf, Lord Elrond, Master Oteriel, and Ferrisch, and Lindir scurried to bring them glasses of wine before the Dwarves appropriated the bottles for the supper. Tauriel and I were gladly swept up to greet friends we hadn’t seen in four months, and Míriel had her circle of admirers. For a moment, the Dwarves stood to the side uncomfortably, so the Orc Spawn brought Elves and Dwarves together to help everyone become acquainted. All warriors, regardless of folk, have similar stories, and before long everyone was chatting more or less comfortably, even if only about the festival games, horses, blade steel, or Orc battles. Those were things we all understood.

In short order, Gridden called us to supper in truth, and folk got more comfortable with plates of roasted antelope, bowls of stew, piles of Elvish salad, slices of fish pie, and plenty of flatbread. Lord Elrond’s wine was something to savor, and I sat back with Tauriel and Míriel to enjoy the sounds of feasting.

The counterattack to end all chance of me being king of Erebor had begun.


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. The steppe festival finally gets underway... with a hitch or two.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the conversation as well as the racing around!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> skator-u kurvanog vogaumtar – to hell with fucking wizards  
> Kurvan Gajumat Kon! = Fuck the ugly dogs!

_Eighty-four Years Earlier_

 

_Dís made the rounds of the markets, the craft houses, the trade centers, for weeks. There were plenty of males who’d grant her the few moments she needed, surprisingly many. She snorted at herself. If she’d taken a moment for herself through all these many years, she would’ve noticed that not all folk were so focused as she on nothing but duty and the need of others. Yes, some cared only for metal work, or the isolation of the northern steppes, or the give and take of trade. But most of the rest were amenable for a moment’s respite, a swift encounter, a rare release._

_It took her a week to absorb just that alone. The means were everywhere._

_It took another week to consider just what means she wanted. For the briefest instant, she thought about finding the dumbest sheepherder she could find. Wouldn’t that suit the noble line of Durin? But she’d have to raise the bairn, and raising a moving vegetable would spite her more than the noble line of Durin. She’d be better served to look for quality means._

_What qualities, exactly? Intelligence, of course. Skills – what kind? Her folk were smiths, metal crafters, jewelers. It would behoove her to consider those. It would behoove her to look for warmth and consideration of other folk, too – the Valar knew the line of Durin had that in short supply._

_There was also the question of revenge. Too much had been asked of her. Even the Dwarves knew the old adage credited to Men – take care, for as you ask, so you may receive. So her mother had asked for – no, demanded – heirs to the noble line of Durin. What twist could she put on that that would serve Durin’s line well, in all meanings of that word?_

_The means she settled on was a gifted metalsmith, skilled in the crafting of blades as well as fine silver jewelry. He was far warmer to his clients, regardless of folk, than most of his kind, and so he had a large following. He kept an intricate silver bowl full of sweets on the table where he sat with his clients, just for their bairns, because he liked to see them happy. He was skilled with all the weapons he made, and spoke so knowledgeably that many warriors of all races came to him exclusively for specialty work. He was also a more than competent archer, and had designed several specialty arrowheads for discerning clients._

_Over several weeks, Dís bought several pieces of jewelry, a few knives, and a mate to the intricate silver sweet bowl. Only the first piece of jewelry was what she considered a matter of business. The rest she bought because she liked them. She liked the one who made them, too._

_She arranged to meet him to discuss a private commission._

_When he sat across the table from her, she told him who she was, the task that had thrust upon her, and the circumstances that had given her that task. She told him she wanted no permanent arrangement. She told him why she had approached him – his skill, his warmth, his intelligence. She did not tell him she thought him beautiful, as well, but she suspected he knew that. He heard her out without laughter, without preening, without cruelty, without crudity._

_When she was done, he sat with his hands folded on the table, met her eyes straightly, and noted the obvious. She replied that that was also part of her consideration._

_“What you ask honors me, little mother. What you ask also does not come easily for my kind, even among us. There is none of the... understanding between us that is generally the precursor to what you ask. There is no guarantee that what you seek will be granted. But I will try. In return, I ask for nothing but silence, now and forever more. I do not seek to be a court appointee, a royal supplier of trinkets, or a paid means to your end. I am a warrior’s craftsman and jeweler, and so I will stay.”_

_“Then why do you agree to give me what I ask?” Dís asked in puzzlement._

_He smiled. “Because you honored me by asking, and I am honored that you think a child of ours will leaven the line of Durin.”_

_“I’ve been told to have two sons.”_

_He nodded. “You shall, if I am able.”_

_He stood, holding his hands out to her as he did all his clients. “We will both need time to prepare, I think. Next week is the harvest festival. Come then, and we will try.”_

_Dís hardly noticed making her way home. She hardly believed what she’d just done._

_* * *_

 

The talking went on late into the night, and the singing went on even longer. We had Míriel to thank for the latter, for Tauriel, Giriel, Drennal, and the other Elf maids started a song for her, and that spread to all of the Elves singing. Not to be outdone, I wandered over to a few of the Dwarves sitting around the stew kettle and started a favorite drinking song, which led to others. The Dwarves’ deep voices mixed with the lighter voices of the Elves, and the combination was rich and pleasing. I could have happily listened to it for half the night, but racing around the plain after so many days of healing had worn me out, and my back had started to hurt again. I wanted to have the energy to join tomorrow’s games, so I sat for a while watching Tauriel enjoy the company of her sisters with Míriel laughing in delight, then headed quietly for our tent.

Gandalf fell into step beside me. “Kíli, it is good to see you.”

“Gandalf!” I exclaimed. “You’ve come a long way to attend a party, haven’t you? I’m honored that you’re here.”

“I told you I would see you again after the birth of your delightful daughter.”

“You said you liked a good party, too. I hope we’ll meet your expectations for that, but you’ll have to wait for the games tomorrow to get the full effect. It isn’t a real party until a few Dwarves have knocked each other about the head a bit.”

Gandalf laughed. “No, it isn’t. Anything is a good excuse for a party, but this is an especially good excuse. I’m relieved to see you recovering so well. You’ve been through quite an ordeal.”

I looked up into the wizard’s pale blue eyes, surprised at the depth of concern I saw there. I wondered why he was so concerned about a very young and insignificant Dwarf, but then I remembered that wizards were put in Middle Earth to care for all its creatures, big and small. I was one of them; still, I was humbled to feel his regard. “I remembered what you said to me in Imladris, not to let go of hope. I wanted to, so many times. But I thought about Tauriel and Miri, and remembered what you’d said, and then I’d try to hold on a little longer. I thank you for that.”

“You are very welcome.”

I looked around, but no one else was close. Gandalf matched my gesture, and then looked inquiringly at me.

“How are you getting on with _Maamr_?”

He chuckled. “She isn’t quite sure she approves of me.”

I winced. “Oh, I know how that feels. She isn’t quite sure she approves of me right now, either. If there’s anything you can say to sort of... you know... grease the wheels, so to speak, I’d appreciate it.”

“I will give it some thought. In return, I will remind you that your mother loves you very much.”

I winced again. “I know that, Gandalf. I’ve always known that. But I can’t be a king. You know all the reasons why. Oh, Rhiannel said I should mention to you that I asked my mother about the Dwarvish rules of ascension to the throne. _Maamr_ refused to tell me two things.”

“And what were these two things?” Gandalf leaned on his staff to consider me.

“I asked her if the king of Erebor had to be pure blood, and if I was. No answer to either.”

Gandalf’s lips were pursed, and his eyes considered the distance rather than me. “That is interesting. And what gives you reason to wonder about the latter?”

I held my arms out. “It isn’t as if no one’s wondered about it before, is it? I don’t care, but I asked because I don’t want to be king, shouldn’t be king, won’t be king. I’ll consider anything that helps me with that. I don’t want to hurt my mother in the doing, but she’s being bloody insistent, and I don’t know why. I think there’s more than lineage and tradition behind it, but she won’t say what.”

Gandalf continued to consider the distance. “Now, that is more interesting.”

“Tauriel and I both have given her a lot of good reasons why I’d do more good for our people in Imladris than Erebor. I’d do our folk harm there, and I’d have damned few allies to try to help me rule well. What the political wolves would do to me inside the city walls wouldn’t be much better than what the Gundebad Orcs wanted to do to me outside the city walls.”

Gandalf hummed. “All valid points.”

I spread my hands. “So what should I do, Gandalf?”

His eyes met mine, still considering. “Gird your loins, of course, my dear boy. This won’t be easy. Although... you have grown up a great deal. You wouldn’t make a bad king, you know.”

He gave me a mischievous smile and took his leave, which left me speechless.

Oh, _skator-u kurvanog vogaumtar_! I did _not_ want to be king!

 

* * *

 

I came up behind Kíli in time to see Gandalf return to the party. Kíli’s fists clenched, he stared at his boots, and he muttered something in Orcish under his breath.

“What did you say?” I asked, concerned.

Kíli started, whirled around, and then looked uncomfortable when he saw me behind him. “Oh. Tauriel. Where’s Míriel?”

“Happily holding court around the fire. I thought you might be heading for our tent, so I would offer to put the lavender oil on your back before you went to sleep. She’ll be well looked after until I return.”

“Oh.” His tone was glum.

“What’s wrong, _a’maelamin_? Did Gandalf say something to upset you?”

“He fucking well did. He said I wouldn’t make a bad king.”

“I don’t think you would, either.”

He stared up to the sky and spread his hands. “Oh and oh, don’t you follow him and my mother! I will not be anyone’s bloody, fucking king!”

“Kíli.” I took his hands. “I did not say that I wanted you to be a king. I did not say that you should go to Erebor and contest the throne. I do not think you would be a good king today, as you are not experienced enough in the ways of such things, and others would take advantage of you. But one day, yes, I think you would be a good king.”

He snorted, but his body wasn’t so tight, and he squeezed my hands. “Why?” he growled, but reluctantly.

“Because you are fair and honest, and you have suffered, and you would not let others suffer unfairly. Because you are the best of folk without feeling smug, and aware of your faults without feeling defensive. Because you love, and you never lose hope. Because you do not seek power for its sake or personal benefit, and would use it well to help your folk. Because you work hard, and you try anything. Because you have the gift to bring even raucous Dwarves and aloof Elves together to the benefit of both.”

He looked away, and gave the ground a sort of half-smile. “You forgot to say that I’m irrepressible.”

“Always. That is one of the many things I love about you, _ancalima hendi_.”

He sighed, and squeezed my hands again. “I don’t deserve you, _amrâlimê_.”

“Yes, you do. You are the best of folk, as I said, and worthy of the things you value. You are my _a’maelamin_ , whether you are a smith, a king, or an irrepressible font of Black Speech curses, and you always will be.”

His breath caught. “I really don’t deserve you,” he said so softly I barely heard him. “But however I managed to become your _a’maelamin_ , I thank the Valar.”

“As I do, for becoming your _amrâlimê_.”

Kíli freed his hands, took my shoulders, and coaxed me to bend closer so he could kiss me. It was a grateful, humble offering, and I accepted it with the love it deserved. We went into the tent hand in hand.

Kíli lit our lantern and put on the teapot to brew his sleeping tea. He seemed tired but content after our busy day, so I didn’t think he’d need much to urge him to sleep. I knew that it was not falling asleep that worried him, though; it was waking. That seemed to be when his night terrors chose to plague him. I fetched the flask of lavender oil that Níri had given me, and as we were alone in the tent, we settled by the hearth where the lantern light would help me see where to apply the oil. Kíli peeled off his tunic easily, without flinching, which spoke well of his improving health, sat with his back to me, and pulled his braids over his chest so as not to get them in the oil.

“How is the wreckage?” he said lightly.

“No longer wreckage,” I answered as lightly back. “Despite all your tearing around the plain today, you didn’t manage to reopen anything. You must have held back, which is most unlike you.”

He snorted in laughter at my teasing. “I’ll remind you of what you just said tomorrow, maid, when the game is in earnest.”

“Please, Kíli, don’t hurt yourself too badly. You have suffered more than your share of wounds in the past weeks, and it is time for you to heal. When we return home, I want to enjoy that with you in all the ways we can devise, and to do that calls for a healthy Dwarf.”

Kíli grinned as he twisted around to kiss my lips quickly. “I’ll try to remember that in the heat of battle tomorrow. That kind of enjoyment is worth holding back for in a mock battle.”

He turned back around so I could resume massaging in the oil. He was silent for a moment, propping his chin up on his knees as I worked.

“Returning home,” he said. “I will be glad to do that, Tauriel, more than I can say. Ever since I left home with Uncle Thorin and Master Dwalin to make my way, I’ve lived from place to place, without much to call mine. Is it so much to want a home that’s mine rather than space in someone’s palace? That’d be no more mine than a drover’s tent space was.”

I massaged gently, with just one finger so as not to pull Kíli’s healing skin. “I feel the same way. My rooms in the Woodland Realm belonged to King Thranduil, not me. I had a few things of my own. Nothing from my parents.”

Kíli looked at me. “Nothing from your parents?”

I shook my head. “It was thought that such things would be too much a reminder of what I had lost when they died.”

“That must’ve hurt almost as much as losing them. It must have felt like they were never there.”

“Exactly so. No one else understood that.”

“I don’t want a mountain of riches. Just you and Míriel, and our home. I wish _Maamr_ understood that.”

I thought about that. “Perhaps she does. And if she does not, I wonder why not.”

Kíli was silent, thinking. “I never considered that,” he said at last. “I want to think about it.”

I closed the oil flask. “You are suitably oiled, _a’maelamin_.”

“My tea is ready, too. I’ll have a cup, and then it’s into the blankets for me.”

“I’ll see you well asleep, then I’ll retrieve Míriel from the revelry. She thinks all of this is solely for her benefit, I think.”

“You _think_? I _know_.” Kíli blew on his tea, and sipped it gingerly. “She may not appreciate the calm when we reach home.”

“Perhaps not. But I will. Another day or so for our games, then another few to ride to Imladris, and then we shall find out.”

“We’ll find out a great many things,” Kíli eyed me up and down. “Such as how nice our bathing tub will be filled with cool water against the summer heat, and how long we can spend in it together before we turn into raisins.”

I hummed in anticipation. “I think it will take several tries to know for sure, don’t you?”

Kíli nodded slowly, smiling. “A great many, _amrâlimê_.”

 

* * *

 

I fell asleep to the sounds of Dwarvish and Elvish singing, and the sight of my _amrâlimê_ lying beside me. I don’t remember dreaming, and I knew where I was when I woke. All of the Orc Spawn were gathered around the hearth having tea and porridge, so I ducked outside for the necessary and hurried back to join them. Míriel had had her breakfast, and sat happily playing with Troli’s doll, burbling in a steady streak as if having a conversation with her new friend. I hoped the finger puppets didn’t mind being supplanted in our bairn’s affections, but given how bedraggled they were, they were likely glad of the rest. When I was through with my porridge, I gathered Míriel into my lap and made the doll dance and sing for her, which she liked very much.

In and around laughing with Míriel, the Elves were excited about today’s games. We would finally enjoy ourselves racing around the plain with our companions, and have a good feast afterwards. Drennal had been torn as to whether she wanted to play the game or hunt. After much agonizing, she’d decided to play, as the Dwarves had offered to hunt alone this morning so the Orc Spawn could show the Imladris Elves our new game and practice it a bit. Drennal said they had already set out at first light, so as to be in position by the herds at dawn. Once her porridge was done, she had rummaged through her gear, sorting out her hunting gear from her saddle.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, and held up a Dwarvish bow and quiver. “Kíli, Tauriel and I forgot about this. The day the Orcs took you from Thorin’s Halls, we stayed overnight in your childhood room in your mother’s house. Tauriel recalled how you missed having a Dwarvish bow, so we took this one for you. In the confusion and then the chase after you, we never gave it to you. Here it is.”

“Oh, now, there’s an old friend!” I took it from her. “And the quiver, too. This was my favorite bow for deer hunting. I had a lighter one for smaller game, but this was the one I used most often.”

“It needs a new bowstring,” Tauriel said, as I unwrapped the old one that held the quiver to the bow.

“I’ll ask if any of the Dwarves have a spare. It needs a heavier one than what our Elvish bows use.”

“You’d better ask early,” Giriel said, her eyes bright. “We’re starting our games as soon as we’ve cleaned up breakfast.”

We all chuckled. You’d never know Giriel had spent three days sprinting across the plain at her fastest speed, so eager was she to start our games. She and Fallin were already dressed and had their gear in order, so once we banked the hearth fire and rinsed the bowls, they were off. The rest of us followed more slowly, for Tauriel and I were going to leave Míriel with _Maamr_ so we could both ride with the Orc Spawn.

We decided to deliver Míriel first, then come back for our saddles. Tauriel carried our bairn and I carried the bag of diapers and gowns and toys and blankets that seemed to grow heavier every time I hefted it. It likely weighed more than Míriel. As we drew nearer to _Maamr’s_ tent, I nudged Tauriel.

“Look at them! My mother and Lord Elrond are playing chess!”

Tauriel grinned. “Good. Rhiannel mentioned the game to Lord Elrond as I asked. I thought it might give him and Dís something to talk about.”

I slid her a glance. “You are as much player as they are. You just don’t use a board.”

Tauriel’s smile was brief. “Let us hope that I am as good as you think I am. I thought the game would give them a reason to spend time together, and to talk. I want them to have every chance to gain a rapport. While I cannot govern what Lord Elrond says about us, I hope that he sees the benefit to letting us stay in Imladris, and will say so to her. He might say the same things we have already told her, but his word will carry more weight than both of ours combined.”

“Thank you, _amrâlimê_ , for looking out for me. And I hope you’re right.”

We approached quietly, not wanting to interrupt the game, but both my mother and Lord Elrond took us in at a glance and nodded welcome.

“Chess makes an excellent breakfast companion,” my mother pronounced with satisfaction. “Especially with such a canny player.”

Lord Elrond’s smile was wry. “I am pleased you think so, Lady Dís. I have not played a Dwarvish master before. It has been most instructive.”

Dís laughed. “Tauriel said you and I would benefit from a few games, and she was right. You are master of the subtle campaign.”

“And you are master of the swift, direct attack,” he grinned. “A most interesting perspective from which I have learned much about Dwarves.”

“Dare I ask who’s winning?” I ventured.

“It’s two games to one,” my mother replied.

“Your two, to my one,” Lord Elrond amended. “We will have another game over luncheon, perhaps?”

Dís nodded readily. “I would enjoy that very much. After certain folk have spent the morn racing across the plain in the name of reckless fun.”

“Of which I am one,” Lord Elrond admitted, rising. “From Rhiannel’s description, I look forward to trying this new game you have invented, Kíli.”

“It’s mostly Giriel and Fallin and Ferrisch who’ve done the inventing,” I amended. “It’ll have Elves and Dwarves together on each team, and a ball to throw back and forth.”

Lindir was hovering nearby, and he had the lord’s cuirass and vambraces in hand as Tauriel passed Míriel to my mother. I put Míriel’s bag beside my mother’s chair, and waved a greeting to Lindir. “Will you be trying our new game, too, Lindir?”

The Elf’s eyes waxed large and uncomfortable. “I will leave that pleasure to you and Tauriel, Kíli. I’m happy to watch.”

I wasn’t surprised. “If you change your mind, we’ve room for you. Just think of it – racing around the plain, the Dwarves at full yell and the Elves singing, the rams thundering around and the horses leaping... a rare time.”

Lindir’s gulp was discreet. “I’m pleased you’re so enthusiastic about it, Kíli. I hope you enjoy yourself.”

I didn’t dare look at Tauriel, for I would laugh, so I shrugged. “To each his own, then. So a belated good morning to you, _Maamr_ , and thank you for playing with Míriel while Tauriel and I play on the field. Here is her best friend, and her gowns and blankets and things are in the bag.”

I handed Míriel’s doll to _Maamr_ , which drew a delighted coo from my daughter as she reached for it. _Maamr_ laughed, and made the doll dance for Míriel.

“It is no trial to play with such a happy little one,” my mother replied, smiling. “Enjoy your game, Kíli, and you, as well, Tauriel. Lord Elrond, take care so that we can have our game at lunch.”

“Of course,” Lord Elrond put his hand to his heart and bowed. “Until later, then.”

We took our leave from Lord Elrond to fetch the tack for our horses.

“Aren’t you going to wear any padding?” Tauriel asked me as she put on her cuirass.

“My back’s still tender, so I’m leaving it off since it’s just a game, and we’re not using weapons.”

Giriel ran back to join us. “Look, Kíli! I found a bowstring for you! Garrund had one to spare, so he sends it with his regards.”

The maid put the string in my hand, and even though I wouldn’t need the bow for the game, I couldn’t resist stringing it and giving it an experimental pull. I was pleased that my back didn’t protest, so I put the bow and quiver on my saddle, thinking I’d have a moment before the rest of the players assembled to try it out.

“At least put on a heavier tunic, perhaps?” Tauriel persisted.

“It’s just a game, Tauriel. It’s hot, and getting any hotter makes me sweat, and that makes my back itch.”

Tauriel accepted that. “Point well taken. I’ll leave off the extra layer, too.”

Giriel had her saddle, and went with us to catch our horses. Once the two maids heaved my saddle atop Trellennan for me, I eagerly climbed atop my tall horse. Trellennan seemed as happy as I was, and broke right into a canter. I whooped, thrilled to have the wind in my hair again, the sun on my face, and a horse under me moving freely. Tauriel raced up behind me, and we had a joyous gallop together, our first since reaching Thorin’s Hills. Around us, other Elves were joining us, and Dwarves flew by on their battle rams.

This was perfection.

I was so enamored with riding just for the fun of it that I didn’t bother to pull out my bow. I didn’t have a target to shoot at, anyway, and there would be time for archery this afternoon when we had the riding and shooting games. Giriel flew by us, laughing as Rhiannel and another pair of Elves tried unsuccessfully to catch her. A trio of Dwarves rode next to us, and we lined up with them to try the sweeping wheel maneuver we’d come up with during yesterday’s practice. We didn’t have the maneuver quite practiced yet, but we had fun trying. Before long, we had a couple of teams ready to try our new game.

Each team had three Elves and three Dwarves; because I was ahorse, I counted as an Elf. The point of the game was to throw a ball between teammates and carry it across a line. The other team tried to intercept the ball by catching it or knocking it away, or blocking the opposing rider. If the ball hit the ground, Elves couldn’t pick it up, but their Dwarvish teammates could. This was because Dwarves could easily lean over the sides of their rams to scoop up the ball, while Elves couldn’t while ahorse. Given how many intended to watch the game, we had no lack of folk to tell when one of the teams carried the ball over the line. The first team to cross the line five times won the game.

We decided our first game would be between only two teams. Once we sorted that out, we’d try it with more than two, which might make for some interesting alliances back and forth as teams combined to defeat the rest of the field. But this first time, it was Troli, Gridden, Florin, Tauriel, Fallin, and I on one team; and Arcken, Rivvish, Orin, Drennal, Rhiannel, and Giriel on the other. Fallin was our captain, and Giriel was the other. We lined up, the three Elves behind the three Dwarves, at each of the lines, then someone threw in the ball in the middle, and the mayhem commenced.

Troli was good at much more than making clever dolls for bairns; he scooped up the ball first, and heaved it straight at Tauriel to race towards our line. Drennal and two of her Dwarvish teammates raced to block her, and Tauriel heaved the ball backwards to me. I caught it with both hands, and shouted for Trellennan to swerve sharply left. The ball was a one-time saddle pad cut and sewn into a squashy bag and stuffed with cloth, so it was easy to grab out of the air with one hand, and just as quickly heave it on. I raced Giriel for the line, but she was faster, and cut me of with a crow. I heaved the ball back to Gridden, who winged it swiftly to Florin, and Florin ducked behind Orin to race over the line. We had won a point first!

The game started over again, and this time it was the other team that won a point. We won two in a row after that, then the other team scored three, and finally Tauriel won a point to bring us even again. The next team who won a point would win the game, so we had many spectators yelling encouragement for both sides. As the ball was thrown in for the fifth time, Gridden dove after the ball with a hoarse yell, and came up with it at full speed. He heaved it high, and I was just able to catch it. I raced Trellennan for the line, was cut off, hurled it to Fallin with a yell, but our captain dropped it. He kept his horse by the ball, however, blocking the Dwarves from the opposing team from reaching it, which gave Troli a chance to snatch it up. He threw it to me while still leaning over the side of his ram. I wasn’t expecting that, but it was a perfect move, right to me. I caught it, drew it back, and sent it on to Tauriel, who streaked towards the line with Florin and Gridden right behind her. Only one Elf and one Dwarf opposed them, and as soon as they converged on Tauriel, she handed the ball off to Gridden to race across the line.

A big cheer went up, as well as a big shout of annoyance. I laughed; as I expected, a lot of money was changing hands, revealing the usual habit of Dwarves to bet on a game of any kind. The Elves looked on in amusement; gambling didn’t seem to fascinate as many of them as Dwarves. We walked our horses off to the side to cool down, leaving the field to the next two teams.

Master Oteriel was ahorse as captain for this game, with Ferrisch the captain of the other side. Both of the generals seemed to enjoy themselves, and considering that we’d just made this game up, they both played skillfully. We’d learned that with their greater speed, the Elves tended to end up more at the ends of the field, where the Dwarves, with their ability to pick up the ball, tended to play in the middle of the field where the ball usually landed. It was, therefore, interesting to see how play differed on a team captained from the ends of the field versus the midfield.

The games went quickly, which kept the morning lively. Lord Elrond took a turn in the third game, and it was exciting to see the lord of Imladris laughing and racing around like the rest of us. Since we had only six teams, we played the next game between the winners of the first two games. As Tauriel and I rode out for our game, Giriel started our Orc Spawn chant.

“ _Kurvan Gajumat Kon! Kurvan Gajumat Kon!”_

As we took up the chant, so did our Dwarvish teammates, and with great enthusiasm. On the sidelines, I saw my mother speak to one of the Dwarves, and grimace when he answered. He’d told her what we were chanting. I pointed it out to Tauriel, and we shared a gleeful look as if we were just the scamps my mother thought we were. Then the game was on.

The game sawed back and forth, but Ferrisch was a canny player, and his team had made three points to our one. As Tauriel, Fallin, and I retreated to the back of the field to get ready for the ball to be thrown in, I caught a motion in the distance. It wasn’t heat shimmer.

“Tauriel! Fallin!” I yelled, pointing. “Do you see that?”

Something rode far out on the plain.

“Orc Spawn! Hold!” Fallin shouted.

The game hesitated, and when I pointed out at whatever it was, the Elves on the other team turned to look, standing up in their stirrups for a better view.

Drennal rode up beside me, shading her eyes. “Oh, Valar, it’s the hunting party! Something’s after them!”

“Bandits, I think! Not Orcs!” Giriel shouted. She stood on her horse’s saddle for a better view. “One of the Dwarves is hit!”

“Forward, Orc Spawn!” Fallin called, gathering his horse under him. I had Trellennan on his heels, and Tauriel was beside me. We raced forward, with Dwarves and Elves streaming behind us as everyone scrambled to mount their horses and follow. The Orc Spawn were ahead of most of them, but all of the Dwarves who’d been on the field were with us, so we had at least fifteen of us combined.

As we drew closer, I made out the hunting party of six Dwarves racing ahead of fully a dozen horsemen, most with bows. I freed mine from my harness, nocked an arrow, and searched for my first target. If these had been Orcs aback Wargs, I would have targeted the Wargs first, leaving our mates with swords to handle the riders. But these were horses, and when I could I shot for the riders, not the horses. None of the Elves in the first flight had bows, so I targeted archers first to even the odds. The ones I couldn’t target shot at me, but in this fight Trellennan and I escaped their arrows. Soon, more Elves and Dwarves with bows joined me, and we were better able to strike the bandits from afar rather than having to brave their arrows to bring our swords to bear. When I’d spent all my arrows, I drew my sword and chased down two of the bandits besetting the pair of Elves who had dismounted to protect the wounded Dwarf.

When the second one fell, I searched the field for more enemies. The last bandit had fallen to the blows of two stout Dwarves, so I started to count Elves and Dwarves. Lord Elrond was there, and Master Oteriel, Rhiannel, Drennal, Fallin, Tauriel...

I didn’t see Giriel. But Tauriel and Rhiannel were running over the trampled grass, and there was Giriel’s horse. I urged Trellennan after them.

Giriel was on the ground, her leg badly slashed, and blood running freely. “I’ll get Níri!” I shouted to Tauriel, and raced off to the folk still by our game field, bellowing to the apothecary.

“Níri! We’ve got wounded! Get your gear and I’ll get you out there!”

He’d gotten his bag over his shoulder when Trellennan skidded to a stop. “Come on, you lot, boost him behind me. Hurry! We’ve got at least two wounded!”

Hands threw Níri up behind me, and he wrapped both arms around me to hang on while I shouted for Trellennan to run. We raced back to Giriel, and more hands got Níri down and beside the Elf maid. She was bleeding so badly that my throat closed. Once I got Trellennan out of the way, I scanned the rest of the field as I’d been trained, looking for more wounded. Three Dwarves were carrying their wounded mate over to Níri; he’d taken an arrow in an arm. Another Dwarf was hobbling forward with his ram, which had an arrow in its shoulder. The ram had probably fallen and spilled his rider, but the Dwarf didn’t look to have broken any bones. Fallin and Drennal were also riding the field, but no one else had been hurt.

“How is Giriel?” Drennal asked. Her face was pale, and her voice a quaver.

I shook my head. “Badly slashed, at least. She was bleeding a lot. Níri’s with her.”

“Is Rhiannel with her?”

I nodded. “Tauriel, too. I’ve got the field if you want to go to her.”

“We’ll all go. There’s nothing out here but the bandits’ horses, and they can wait.”

Fallin, Drennal, and I returned to the huddle of folk around Giriel. Three of the Dwarves held her down for Níri to work, and Tauriel was at her head to whisper encouragement. As we dismounted, I hoped that so much spilled blood wasn’t a portent. At Giriel’s agonized cries, Drennal turned away, tears spilling down her cheeks. Fallin put his arm around her, and I put my hand on her arm.

How long did we stand motionless on this bright summer day, unmindful of the time that passed? It seemed to be the longest of lifetimes, or the shortest of moments that had stopped and would not progress. Everything hung suspended, unbreathing, unmoving, but for Níri, whose hands flew over Giriel. I stood beside Drennal, looking back at our comrade so badly hurt. I knew how Rhiannel felt, for I had crouched over Tauriel once before when she had been so badly wounded in King Thranduil’s _Glawar-galad_. If Níri could stop the bleeding in time, I hoped that Giriel’s healing trance would do the rest.

Níri sat back, and gestured the Dwarves to let Giriel go. I couldn’t tell from his expression if he’d succeeded or not. Tauriel was not looking at me, so that told me nothing, either. Giriel herself looked dazed, barely aware. So I looked at Giriel’s leg. It was bandaged tightly, and as yet no blood stained the binding cloth. Níri had stopped the bleeding, then, at least for the moment.

“Get a blanket,” Níri said. “Something we can use to carry her back to camp.”

Someone ran off to fetch the blanket. I wondered if this were a good sign or not, and decided that if Níri deemed it safe enough to move Giriel, it must be good. When Níri moved away to see to the wounded Dwarf, I decided that was a good sign, too. I tugged on Drennal’s sleeve, and nodded towards our comrade.

“I think Níri stopped the bleeding.”

The three of us went to our friend, but she was too dazed to speak. Rhiannel looked so stricken that I put an arm around him in commiseration.

“Tauriel,” I asked. “How is she?”

My _amrâlimê_ kept stroking Giriel’s hair. “It’s a bad slice. It came very near the big blood vessel, and the muscle is deeply cut crosswise. If the bleeding stops long enough for her to reach healing trance, she should fare well. But it will be a long recovery.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, and jostled Rhiannel. “Hear that, Rhiannel? Giriel’s going to have to hold still for a long while. As fond as she is of racing around, she’ll need you close by to help her do that.”

Rhiannel’s eyes were closed, but his lips were touched by the palest of smiles. “I will never complain about her racing around again.”

I patted his back. I’m sure the rest of the Orc Spawn felt the same way.


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Here's the aftermath of the bandit fight, as well as the next part of Dis's story. Lots of angst in this chapter, so gird your loins.
> 
> Hope you enjoy some of the grit that follows a fight.

_Eighty-four Years Ago, and Forward_

 

_Dís hardly knew what to expect when she returned to the metalsmith’s shop on the third evening of the harvest festival. Oh, she knew physically what to expect; she might not have found anyone with whom she wanted to partner with, but she knew the mechanics and wasn’t afraid of them. Perhaps the metalsmith considered this little different from a delivery of goods, and the doing would be brief and businesslike. But she was surprised to find a tray holding a bottle of red wine and two goblets waiting on a small table in the private bedchamber she was shown into, and a profusion of lit candles that gilded everything with a soft, honey-scented, golden glow. This was a comfortable room, with a lush profusion of jewel-colored cushions on the wide dormer window seat and soft silk throws on the elegantly carved reading couch. The bed was not as big as she expected, but more than adequate for what was needed, and it, too, was well supplied with fine embroidered linens and fringed coverlets._

_“I will not pretend there is anything between us but need,” he said, shutting the door. “But I did not want to cast that need in a harsh light. I thought it should be pleasant, and hopeful. A child is better made in the midst of care and consideration rather than as a transaction.”_

_“Or as a farm animal,” Dís blurted, more than a little bitterly, but he didn’t take offense, because her bitterness wasn’t directed at him._

_“Just so,” he nodded quietly. “It is a hard burden laid upon you, little mother, but I would make this as gentle and as sweet as possible.”_

_Tears stung in Dís’s eyes, shaming her, and she looked down at her hands._

_“Here, a sip of wine will help,” he offered, leading her to the reading couch. “I am sorry if I cause your tears.”_

_She shook her head. “You’re more than kind. You’ve gone to a lot of effort that I didn’t expect, and offered consideration, and I thank you for both.” She took a sip of the wine, then looked up at him quickly, forcing a smile. “If anything, you reassure me that I made the right choice.”_

_He bowed his head, accepting her thanks. “I am honored.”_

_He took up his own goblet of wine, sipped, and cocked his head at her. “I do not know how you would like to proceed, so I will ask you. If you prefer, we can take time to talk, to relax, or merely proceed. If you would like the comfort of the bed rather than this couch, it is your choice. I can put out the candles, if you prefer –”_

_“I like the candles,” she said before she thought better of it, and met his eyes. They were grey, like the silver he worked so skillfully. She gestured, indicating the room. “This is very beautiful. And. you... you are very beautiful, too.”_

_His laugh was surprised. “You are gracious.”_

_He leaned forward to stroke her hair, the fringe of her beard, her cheek, and when he saw how much that simple gesture moved her, he bent to kiss her temple, her cheek, her throat. She shut her eyes, felt the silk of his tunic under her fingers and the supple body beneath it, and breathed the exotic spicy scent of him. She stopped thinking, and when he began to unfasten her gown, she found the laces of his tunic and unthreaded them. The glow of the candlelight shone through even her closed eyelids as his cool body slid against hers, cradled hers, easing inside her with the utmost delicacy. She had expected merely to endure this part, but he was gentle and attentive, and she felt a pang of regret when it was over so quickly. She held him for a moment, overwhelmed at how much she had asked of him, and how much more he had given. This time, she couldn’t stop her tears._

_“Little mother, I am sorry,” he said with more tenderness than her family had shown her. “I am sorry.”_

_“I’m not,” she whispered. “I’m not sorry at all. You are the kindest, gentlest, and most generous one I could have chosen.”_

_He didn’t laugh this time, but looked at her with sadness. “You deserve all those things. I am sorry that you have seen so little of them. But perhaps between us, we will leaven the future. Not just for those to come, but for you as well.”_

_Her smile was genuine. “What comes after this, we can’t say, but I can say for myself. You have given me very much more to treasure than I asked for.”_

_He took her hand to kiss it. “You are your own treasure. Remember that in the days to come.”_

_She thought of him often as their child grew within her. When Fíli was born, the silver streaks in her son’s pale blue eyes reminded her of his father’s grey eyes. She ignored her mother’s relieved congratulations because they were no different from those she’d received for fulfilling an unpleasant task. The bairn was her reward, for he was a sturdy, happy, bright child, as handsome as his father, though far blonder._

_When Kíli was born five years later, his long, slender body and dark, silky hair reminded her of his father’s elegance. Again, her mother offered her the same crass congratulations, and again, Dís ignored them to revel in her bairn._

_She was almost sorry to have fulfilled her mother’s demands, for now she had no reason to visit the metalsmith during harvest festival. He had given her what she needed, and his generosity kept her from asking him for what she wanted._

_So Dís settled into raising the gift of her two sons. Tall, slender, dark-haired Kíli was quieter, yet funnier, than his shorter, sturdier, blond brother, more restless, more whimsical, more sensitive. Fili liked many traditional Dwarvish things, such as finely crafted blades and good ale and working with his uncle, though he secretly wrote verses that impressed Dís with their insight. Folk gravitated to Fíli’s easy charisma and charm, and his considerate, almost courtly manner with all who dealt with him. Conversely, Kíli reveled in the untraditional. He was dutiful enough, but his eyes sparkled and his smile was widest when he pursued the most unDwarvish of pursuits. Who thought a Dwarf could be a skilled archer almost before he could walk, or have such an unrivaled rapport with animals, or make beautifully delicate silver jewelry as well as he forged anything in iron? His exotic looks – wavy, silky hair that refused to hold Dwarvish plaits, high cheekbones, pointed chin, and scant beard – reminded her every day of his father._

_She was relieved that despite their differences, her sons were inseparable, given how often Kíli’s differences brought the worst of Dwarvish rigidity down upon him. Fíli kept him safe, and in return Kíli worshipped his older brother. She had been blessed beyond her hopes in both of them, and given Thorin’s inattention to making an heir for himself, her blessings would one day coax the line of Durin away from isolation and death, and towards renewed vigor._

_For all that Thorin had shown no interest in heir-making, he had been a good mentor for both lads, first by reading to them and playing with them, then by taking them to learn the forest, the forge, the commerce of their folk, the skills of warriors. Fíli had delighted him with his stalwart devotion to his blades, and if Kíli’s unconventional choice of weapons had bemused him, he’d recognized his skill, and had fostered it. It was Thorin who’d seen how valuable Kíli’s archery skills would be on the northern steppes, and had apprenticed both lads to drovers and horsemen, for they’d refused to be separated. Back in the Blue Mountains, Thorin had made sure that Fíli had the best knives and blades, and Kíli the best bows, and had insisted that both spend time with Master Dwalin to make them into the consummate warriors they were._

_Then Thorin had died, taking both of her sons with him. She mourned for herself as well as for the father of her sons, and for the future that was lost to the line of Durin. Dain was an able ruler, but the tales she’d heard about his insults to the Elves and Men whose aid had held Erebor against the Orcs and Goblins told her the line would continue as it ever had, insular and contentious, without the compassion and openness she’d hoped to add._

_Kíli’s reappearance had been nothing short of a gift from the Valar – and then a disaster. The child who’d run after his adored brother and uncle to Erebor was gone, replaced with an adult who’d marshaled too many good arguments about why he should not take the throne. He’d married an Elf – more than that, he’d bonded with her, and any attempt to undo that meant death for both. They’d had a child, conceived in as much hope as Fíli and Kíli had been, but also in the love and affection she had not managed to find. An accident of birth, he called his place in the line, when it had been anything but. She’d never been so calculating about anything in her life._

_It occurred to her that Fíli had been the better Dwarf to shepherd their folk along the first part of their journey away from isolation and contention, for his apparently traditional ways and charisma would have allowed him to mandate the policies of openness without raising a firestorm of protest. Kíli’s place would have been at his brother’s side, invigorating rules and laws with life and laughter, taking the fear out of new ways. If Fíli had died without issue, Kíli would have succeeded him without question, because Fíli’s changes would have shown his folk how to accept his unconventional brother._

_When Gundebad Orcs at Ravenhill had murdered Fíli, however, they had destroyed the catalyst for change for the line of Durin. Without the catalyst of his brother, Kíli had no base of acceptance from which to coax his folk forward. His Elvish wife and bairn would only further erode that acceptance._

_So why did she persist in her efforts to push Kíli onto the throne?_

_Because she wanted her revenge. She wanted no more mothers of Durin who were as soulless as hers, no more fathers who lusted after gold to the peril of their kingdoms. She wanted the generosity of her sons’ father to reap the reward it should, to guide a kingdom forward with grace, to bounty._

_How ironic that her high hopes and ideals threatened to strip her remaining son of the very grace, bounty, generosity, and joy she sought for the rest of their folk._

 

* * *

 

I was dimly aware that Lord Elrond, Master Oteriel, and Ferrisch took charge of the mounted Elves and Dwarves. One party collected and searched the dead, and prepared to burn their bodies. Another gathered the horses, and a third talked to the hunters to learn how they had come upon the bandits, and then rode out to see if any remained. A fourth rode off to retrieve the hunters’ take that they’d had to abandon when the bandits had attacked. I think Drennal was among those who saw to the horses; Kíli, because of his skill as an archer, went out with the scouts for the bandits’ camp. I didn’t see where Fallin went. I stayed with Rhiannel and Níri to tend Giriel as half a dozen Dwarves carried her carefully to camp on a blanket. We eased her into our tent, where Rhiannel stayed with her as she fell into healing trance. The injured Dwarf was soon seen to, and then Níri came to me to learn what he could about our healing trance to better help Giriel. Gandalf also went to Giriel’s side to offer his blessing, for which I was grateful.

At length, I went to find Dís and Míriel, for I needed the comfort of holding my daughter. I had been one of the few Elves in the first to reach the hunters who’d had a bow, and like Kíli, my arrows had brought death to several of the bandits. Bringing death is always fraught with horror, but an archer at least has a slight distance from it. That distance, however, had not shielded me today. I had seen Giriel wounded, and had rushed to her even as she had slashed her sword at the Man who had injured her. Rhiannel’s sword had fallen with the sound of steel slicing through flesh and bones, the gust of the Man’s last breath forced from his lungs, and the thump of his body striking the ground. A wide spray of blood had splattered all three of us as Giriel had fallen to the grass; her spurting wound and the shock of pain in her hazel eyes had thrust the immediacy of death at me. Chaos had followed – Kíli’s clattering arrival, the efforts Rhiannel and I made to stop our comrade’s bleeding, Níri’s frantic race to stem the blood, Giriel’s sudden paling and fading consciousness. Now that the frantic rush of adrenaline was gone, I was exhausted.

I found Kíli’s mother with Míriel in her arms, directing the folk not out on patrol to set a perimeter guard about the camp, organizing cooks to prepare food for the patrols as they came and went, and querying the few remaining Elves to understand what food and restoratives they needed. I took Míriel from her as she moved among the busy folk, and retreated to the river. I sank to my knees to smell my daughter’s hair, to feel the warmth of her small body against mine, to shut my eyes to all but her promise.

“Tauriel.” Dís was beside me, a cup of tea in her hands. “Come, maid. Drink.”

I took the cup, swallowed the contents without tasting them in a gulp, and handed the cup back.

“How is Giriel?”

“Rhiannel is with her. And Níri. I hope she has rallied enough for healing trance and can begin to restore herself.”

“Does she need anything to help her?”

A pale memory swam into conscious thought, then grew stronger. Kíli had given me his body warmth when I had been injured in _Glawar-galad_. The day was turning hot, and with Rhiannel beside her, Giriel would be warm enough. Kíli had also steeped _athelas_ in the water he gave me, which had helped, too.

“ _Athelas_. It is called kingsfoil in the Common Tongue. Steeped in water for her to sip when she rouses. I have a little left, but it is dried. I will get it for Níri.”

“I know kingsfoil, and so do a lot of my folk. I’ll send some to look for fresh along the riverbank to supplement your dried.”

“And broth. Rhiannel must stay with her, to keep her warm. He’ll need broth and light food to sustain him.”

“They’re bonded, too?” Dís asked quietly.

I nodded. “Drennal and Fallin, too.” I tried to smile. “Kíli and I joke that we have been a corrupting influence.”

“It’s no corruption to show folk how to love,” Dís said.

I looked up, because her voice was sad, and in the moment that her expression was unguarded, it was wistful.

“Then Kíli is the most uncorrupt one I know.” Now why did I say that?

Dís regarded me sharply, in surprise. I shrugged, and cradled Míriel in my arms so she could look up into the trees as the breeze ruffled the leaves. “For most of the first six hundred years of my life, I was alone in the Woodland Realm. Then I came upon Kíli, lost in the forest. It took him less than a week to give me everything I had lacked, including love, without stinting. He is the best of all things.”

“Aye, he is,” Dís agreed, but again I saw wistfulness in her eyes. “He always has been.”

I swallowed. “Please, Dís. Do not force the throne of Erebor on Kíli. He is too young and inexperienced to rule well. Let him stay in Imladris, Rivendell, where he has the regard of Lord Elrond and his people, where he can do the most good for your people and mine, to help us to become good allies – friends, even. Do not reward what made him the best of all things by destroying him.”

Dís stiffened so suddenly that I looked around us, thinking something had struck her. But we were alone by the river with Míriel. Dís’s face turned angry.

“What would you know about what made him what he is?”

I shut my eyes. “I know only what Kíli is now, Dís. He honored his promise to you no matter how many obstacles he had to overcome. I risked him, my child, and my friends to help him overcome those obstacles, so I think that gives me the right to ask you – why are you so focused on Kíli and the throne knowing how unsuited he is? You have heard our reasons why another path makes more sense. All you have cited are tradition and birthright, but I think you have left the main part unsaid – your own ambition. What faithless thanks that would be for a promise so faithfully kept.”

My voice had begun calmly, but the day’s distress and the frustration of trying to appeal to Dís rose until I all but spat out the last sentence as if it were a curse. I had killed at least two Men today. I had seen one of my closest friends gravely injured. I had watched Kíli race around the plain without armor, fearless as arrows streaked towards him as he protected both his kin and mine. The stubbornness of Dwarvish mothers was too petty to endure any longer.

I got to my feet with Míriel in my arms and left Dís on the bank, walking swiftly so that she would not overtake me. In case she followed me, I retreated to the privacy of the Orc Spawn’s tent. The hubbub had died, and Giriel and Rhiannel were still in their blankets, with Drennal by the hearth in case they need anything. She looked up as I ducked inside.

I was upset enough that I should have carried Míriel to my blankets, but I knelt beside Drennal at the hearth. “How is Giriel?”

“She is in healing trance, so the efforts that you, Rhiannel, and Níri made to stop the bleeding have given her time. Rhiannel will say beside her, in case she wakes.”

I sat Míriel beside Drennal, found the bag of our medical supplies, and drew out one of the packets. I handed it to Drennal. “We can steep this for her.”

“ _Athelas_ ,” Drennal agreed. “I’ll put some in water now. That will help Rhiannel, too.”

I came back to Míriel. My happy daughter chirped inquiringly at me, and it was the final nudge into the tangle of emotions. I folded down beside her and put my face in my hands.

“Oh, Tauriel,” Drennal murmured, taking me in her arms. “Don’t worry. We’ll see to it that Giriel is restored. We will.”

“I know. But I don’t know if anything can restore Dís’s heart. It is as hard as stone, Drennal. Has she ever loved her son?”

Drennal’s arms around me tightened, trying to comfort me. “Kíli said she did, so she must have.”

I shut my eyes against tears. “She picks a poor way to show it now.”

“I’m sorry, _osellë_ ,” Drennal rubbed my back in commiseration. “If I could set her to rights the way I do an ailing horse or pony, I would.”

I wasn’t sure anyone could do that. There was no cure for the stubbornness of Dwarves.

After some moments, Drennal poured a cup of the _athelas_ water and coaxed me to drink it. It helped to steady and refresh me, and I hugged her in thanks. We stayed at the hearth for some time, unspeaking as we kept watch for Giriel, and waited for Fallin and Kíli to return. At length, late in the afternoon, both did, lugging their saddles and other tack as if they were too heavy to bear even one more step. They had been in the party that had followed the bandits’ trail backwards, and apparently there had been a fight, for both were blood-spattered and exhausted. Neither was hurt, but even Kíli’s light Elvish leaf mail had been painful to wear for so long against his back. Drennal and I were quick to offer them cups of the _athelas_ water, but both demurred, preferring to save it for Giriel. So we substituted cups of meat broth, which restored them enough to get out of their armor. We sent them off to bathe, and when they returned, much refreshed, Drennal and I took ourselves to the river, for neither of us had had a chance to clean up after the morning’s skirmish. On the way back, we detoured to the cooking fires, got enough stew and roasted antelope and greens for us all, and took it back to our tent. Fallin and Kíli greeted it with tired enthusiasm, and Rhiannel left Giriel long enough to eat, as well. Ours was a subdued group.

Once the worst of our hunger was past, Fallin and Kíli told us about finding the bandits’ camp. Another dozen Men had been at the end of the trail, and it was clear from the baggage scattered about the camp that they’d taken to raiding caravans, hunters, and other unwary travelers. They were well armed, but Oteriel and Ferrisch had made a good plan that swept a third of the bandits aside in a surprise attack, and the rest in the fierce but brief ensuing fight. Kíli had put his bow to good use, and hadn’t had to draw a blade. Fallin had engaged the bandits with blade in hand, but as the bandits had been caught afoot, he had been well protected atop his Elvish horse. It had taken longer to search and stack the bodies, burn them, and see what could be salvaged from the bandits’ booty. Another party would take packhorses and rams back tomorrow to bring in what was worth carrying, but for now, all were happy to return to our camp for rest and good food.

“Ferrisch is a good field officer,” Fallin commented, sipping a second cup of broth. “He had the best archers take out the pair of sentries first – Kíli was one of those, of course. By the time the rest of the band noticed, the volley from the rest of the archers was already in the air. Then the Dwarves rode in under the volley to strike the first blows. Oteriel had the Elves follow in short order both with archers and blades, and we had the last of the bandits less than ten minutes after we started.”

Kíli was still hungrily devouring a plate of antelope while I massaged lavender oil into his welts, so he didn’t look up. “It was good to see Elves and Dwarves fight so well together. It made the best of us both.”

“I think Lord Elrond is going to postpone the rest of our games so that we can travel back to Imladris where we can play without having to worry about repelling another attack of bandits or Orcs before the game is over,” Fallin said. “We’ll rest by the river until Giriel can travel, and we’ll bring in the bandit’s spoils, but then we’ll ride home.”

I met Kíli’s eyes. I saw the same tired yearning in his eyes that I felt in my heart.

After our meal, Drennal asked if she could cuddle Míriel for a while, so Kíli and I walked down by the river to where the oaks were old and tall, and I boosted him up to the lowest branches so he could climb up. I followed, and we went up until we found a broad branch out of casual view where we didn’t have to guard against ambush – whether from bandits, Orcs, or mothers. Kíli lay outstretched on his stomach, and I was farther out on the limb, comfortably cradled in a fork of the branch. For some moments, neither of us spoke, but eventually we said the things that warriors do after a fight, to disengage from the conflict and rejoin the world. Both of us had dealt death today, and while that burden could never be completely released, we could remind each other that in dispensing bandits we had saved travelers, caravaneers, and warriors of all folk from the bandits’ predations.

“I talked to your mother after the fight,” I confessed softly.

Kíli stirred. “Did she ambush you the way she ambushed me at the games?”

“She didn’t intend to, I think. She knew I was worried about Giriel, and was kind enough to bring me tea. I’m afraid I was so upset that I blurted out a plea to leave you alone about Erebor. I said that you were the best of all things, and insisting on the kingship would destroy you and all that you were.”

Kíli’s hand snuck out from under his chin to rub my calf. “What did she say, as if I don’t know?”

“She didn’t react as I expected. Something I said galled her. She asked what I knew about... hmm, the words were odd, awkward... ‘What do you know about what made him what he is?’”

“ ‘What did you know about what had made me what I was?’” Kíli repeated. He repeated it again under his breath, trying to make sense of it. “I don’t understand it. Can you remember what you said before she said that?”

I shut my eyes, trying to recall. “I said... ‘Do not reward what made him the best of all things by destroying him.’”

“Don’t reward what made me by destroying me.” He hummed. “Made, as in the circumstances of my life, or made, as in... how we made Míriel?”

I hummed. “Why would she think I know anything about your birth?”

“I have no idea.” We were silent, until Kíli unexpectedly chuckled. The sound was perverse, the snicker of a child who’d gotten away with something.

“What?” I asked.

“It’s hard to think of _Maamr_ this way, but she sounds like a lad who’s desperately hoping that his mother hasn’t really got demon eyes that see all the trouble he gets into even when she’s not around the trouble. Do Elflings do that? ‘Who, me? I didn’t touch the apple crumble, you weren’t in the kitchen, were you, so what do you know about it, anyway? Of course it wasn’t me.’”

“So was she truly asking me what I know about _who_ made you what you are?”

Kíli yawned. “I don’t know. She knows I don’t care. But she’s stubborn even by Dwarvish standards, and she’s not met many who cross her for long. You’re the first in a great long time, and now I am, too. She could just be angry about that.”

My husband sat up with a groan. It was full dark now, and the moon was waxing overhead, sailing amid grey rags of clouds. “I’m for bed. It’s been a hard, bloody day, and I want to lie down beside you and remember the good of the world before I go to sleep.”

We clambered down, climbed up the riverbank hand in hand, and crossed to our tent. Drennal and Fallin were still by the hearth, so we talked quietly with them while Kíli brewed and drank his sleeping tea. Rhiannel lay beside Giriel, his arm protectively across her chest, not sleeping, but perhaps in half a trance himself. Míriel had Troli’s doll beside her, and Drennal and Fallin danced her finger puppets for her, but for once she seemed as quiet as the rest of us. She was happy to suckle one last time, have a clean diaper and gown, and nest in her bag. We wished Drennal and Fallin restful dreams, and went to our blankets.

Despite the warmth, I nestled at Kíli’s back. His hair was still damp, and he hadn’t bothered to braid it after his wash, but it was soft and smelled faintly of the oil he’d smoothed over it. He took my hand draped around his ribs, and drew it to his lips to kiss.

“I want to be home, _amrâlimê_ ,” he whispered.

I shut my eyes against the same ache in my heart. “So do I, _a’maelamin_. Very much, so do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say that I cried writing the scene about Fili's conception. I didn't expect that, but there you are. Dis is more courageous than those around her know.


	52. Chapter 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Just a short chapter that helps everyone get sorted out for the trip home. Dis has an interesting conversation with Lord Elrond. Miriel discovers fireworks. And Lindir has a bit of a hard time, but he finds out he has a certain Dwarf to look out for him.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the interlude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> shemator kautar = ugly squirrel  
> barathar curp doh kros = bloody ass bird brains

Up and down, up and down, up and down... that bastard Orc Krugnash flogging me so hard that shrieks just gusted out of me... the thunks as my first arrow skewered a bandit through the chest and the second through the throat... Grimmaz’s rough tongue trying to soothe me... Giriel gasping howling falling with blood spurting everywhere... bandits running like ants out of a hill to drop when arrows fledged them with deadly feathers... Tauriel’s hands covered with Giriel’s blood, or was it her blood... that bastard Berqk kicking my legs apart, I couldn’t breathe as he held me down, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe couldn’t couldn’t couldn’t breathe –

“Kíli! Kíli! Wake up! Wake up now, Kíli!”

I woke with a jerk so hard that it wrenched every muscle in my back, neck, chest. Wincing at the sharp pain, I forced my eyes open. I was in a tent, our tent, the Orc Spawn tent. Tauriel’s pale face hovered above me, her green eyes swimming with tears.

“I’m – awake. I – I’m awake. Awake. Oh, Valar, Tauriel, I’m so sorry –”

Tauriel choked back a sob. “No, Kíli, I’m sorry. I couldn’t wake you up –”

I sat up, and took Tauriel in my arms. My dreams faded quickly, but Tauriel was so overwrought that I looked quickly around the tent, thinking something else was wrong. Fallin and Drennal were out. Was it Giriel? Rhiannel was propped up on one elbow beside Giriel’s still body, but his concerned look was for Tauriel and me, not his _amrâlimê_.

“I’m sorry, _amrâlimê_. I’m sorry I worried you. I’m all right. I’m here with you, and it was only a dream. It’s all right.”

Tauriel didn’t speak, just clung to me with her head on my shoulder and her arms around my ribs. I held her, rubbing her back, stroking her beautiful hair, until she was calmer. She sniffed. When she eased back to look at me, I realized that tear-filled Elvish eyes held the sadness of all Middle Earth in them. Whoever thought Elves didn’t feel sorrow or pain for anyone but themselves was a fool.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t wake you, Kíli. I tried. I hate to see those dreams torture you. I hate it.”

“They’re just dreams. Bad dreams, but that’s all. They’ll fade. They’ll cause a stir now and again, like this morning, but they’re not real, and they can’t keep me from savoring my life. So don’t spend your tears on them, Tauriel. We’re almost home.”

Tauriel’s face spasmed again, and she looked away to wipe a defiant hand across her face. Tears didn’t come easily to my Elf warrior maid. She’d been unfaltering and resolute for so long, and had sacrificed so much for me on this long journey, and she was tired in spirit as well as body. It was time to get us home and settled again. Settled meant ending this impasse with _Maamr_ , too, and I would see it done for Tauriel’s sake as much as mine. But first, I would take care of something more immediate.

“I promised you we would return to Imladris, _amrâlimê_ , and so we shall. We shall stay there for as long as Lord Elrond grants us that grace. There is nothing and no one that can prevent me from keeping that promise.”

I took up her hand to kiss her marriage ring, and then I kissed each of the rings in her ears, and then I kissed her lips.

Who knows what I would have kissed next, if an emphatic burble hadn’t punctuated my caress? There was Míriel, lying on her belly at the foot of my blankets. She had one leg of Troli’s doll firmly gripped in one tiny hand, with the other leg underneath her and both an arm and a braid draped over her head, as if they were having a tussle. She had the most satisfied expression on her face.

“She looks like Fíli and me having a go,” I snickered. I stroked Tauriel’s hair as she turned to regard our daughter. “She’s ready to go home, too. It’ll be much easier for her to learn to wrestle in our garden than in her swaddle aback a horse.”

Tauriel relaxed, and her cheeks were once again tinged with pink. “She has been the best of nomad babes.”

“And you have been the best of nomad warrior maids. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how much you like living in a tent. Perhaps we should drape the ceiling of our bedchamber to remind you of this.”

“It would be suitably exotic for my exotic husband,” Tauriel returned with a considered look up at the roof of our tent. “I shall give it some thought.”

She smiled the tiniest bit, giving away her joke.

“Oh and oh, here I thought it was the dashing corsair you liked,” I teased back. “Now I find out it’s the dashing horseman.”

“The common thread seems to be dashing, as in riding a horse this way and that in a frenzy, of which you are inordinately fond, if not as much as Giriel. Please, put the tent in the bedchamber if you like, but the horse must stay in the stable.”

“That I can manage. Now, I am rank, and am off to bathe, then I’ll have breakfast. Do we have the morning’s duty roster yet?”

“You get to stay near camp today, given your duty at the bandit camp yesterday, and are on to help the cooks for luncheon. I’m on perimeter duty in the afternoon. Many of the Dwarves are off to salvage the bandits’ goods, because they have the pack animals.”

I paused in collecting clean clothes and bathing things. “I think there was a cart of some kind at the camp. A horse could pull it back if we can cobble together enough of a harness.”

“I’ll find Drennal after you bathe for the harness.”

“I’ll look for her now. We can offer up our packhorse to help. I’m sure Whitefoot won’t protest at pulling a cart a few miles, especially since it won’t be at breakneck pace.”

I kissed Tauriel and Míriel, collected my things, and went out into the morning.

It would be another hot, sunny day, and both heat and light helped to dissipate the last threads of my night terror. I resolved to ask Gandalf if he had any wisdom to stop my bad dreams, and Níri, too. As awful as the dream’s chaotic mélange of my time on the steppe and yesterday’s fight had been, it wasn’t real. The pain on Tauriel’s face _was_ real, and I hated to be the cause of it. Maybe a wizard and an apothecary could help me put the night terrors behind me.

As I mused, I kept a watchful eye out for _Maamr_. I didn’t want to run into her this morning, not until I’d had a long think about what to do about her fixation about me on the throne of Erebor. Gandalf knew how I felt, and after my last conversation with him about it, I saw no point in venturing another. Lord Elrond knew, too, and if he thought I’d changed my mind, Gandalf would disabuse him of that quickly. Tauriel had made her position clear to _Maamr_ at least twice, too, and _Maamr_ still persisted. So it was up to me to stop this.

But how?

What had Tauriel said about rewards?

“ ‘Do not reward what made him the best of all things by destroying him.’”

I wanted to follow the same advice about settling with _Maamr_. Acting like a real bastard about it would be a poor reward for all the years _Maamr_ had loved me, cared for me, protected me.

But how?

In the corner of my eye, I spotted _Maamr_ and Lord Elrond sitting outside his tent under a canopy, playing chess.

I headed off to the river to think.

 

* * *

 

_Dís laid the king on its side, conceding the game. The High Lord of Imladris had learned fast, for a being with such a long life and prone to long contemplation. He had been content to lose many games at first so that he could watch how she played, and learn how best to match her strategy with his own. He won twice as many as she did now._

_“Well played, Lord Elrond,” she nodded, and the dark-haired Elf nodded in graceful acknowledgement. “You’re a quick study.”_

_“Learning how to adapt to an unfamiliar strategy is something I have heard much of these days,” Lord Elrond smiled wryly. “It is not easy. Chess is an instructive way to do so. It is a small step to ease the bigger steps.”_

_“I find the game a comfort because it does not change,” Dís replied, picking up one of the carved horsemen. “The paladin moves in its familiar way each time, as do the horses. They are constant.”_

_“Yet every game is different.”_

_“But the base does not change.”_

_“Ah.” Lord Elrond crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, his fingers interlaced around one knee. “My folk call chess the game that reflects life, but the metaphor extends only so far. The base of chess may not change, but the folk around us do.”_

_Dís laughed. Even she heard the cynicism in the sound. “An unfortunate reality, to be sure. Tell me, Lord Elrond, do you have children?”_

_“Three. My twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, and my daughter, Arwen.”_

_“And have they changed so much as to disconcert you as much as my son has disconcerted me?”_

_“Of course. They would not be our children if they did not. I sometimes think that is the sole purpose of children – to disconcert their parents.”_

_“Have any of your children refused to follow in your footsteps to lead Imladris when you choose to step down?”_

_Lord Elrond shook his head. “The rule of Imladris does not pass in that fashion.”_

_Dís snorted. “The rule of Dwarves does. Kíli is the rightful heir, and he tells me that he will refuse to claim it. What he does claim is that you have granted him sanctuary in your city, even made him part of your mounted guards, and taken him on as a smith.”_

_“Kíli is welcome in Imladris. He serves well, and has been instrumental in showing my folk why and how we must adapt to the changes that occur around our lands. We are better for it.”_

_Dís snorted again. “He should serve well and be instrumental in showing his own folk in Erebor how to adapt, not yours.”_

_Lord Elrond sighed, not rising to her bitterness. He gazed at her with compassionate eyes, reminding her with a stab of other eyes that had offered her such regard._

_“I see the mark of his father as well as you do, Lady Dís. I do not know why you made such a choice. Whatever your reasons, recognize that such a son will not be bound only to Dwarvish tradition or expectations.”_

_“He doesn’t belong in Rivendell!”_

_Her heat did not distress Lord Elrond. “I will assume that your vehemence is a mother’s exasperation at her son’s refusal to follow her lead, rather than any distaste for my folk.”_

_She waved a hand, a sullen apology if ever there was one._

_“Your folk and mine are alike in many ways, Lady Dís. For too long, Dwarves and Elves have tended only to our own concerns. The world is changing, and soon enough the free folk of the world will survive only if we band together. For that to be successful, we must learn to trust each other more than we do now. Kíli is all too aware that he would engender little trust in your folk as king, and that he lacks the experience or allies to compensate for that lack of trust. He is too much change too fast for your folk, and would last only a short time on Erebor’s throne. But he could have far longer to engender trust in both our folk if he served from a less... obvious position.”_

_“Such as?”_

_“Your folk will emigrate to Erebor from the Blue Mountains, will they not?”_

_Dís nodded._

_“I hope that Kíli conveyed to you my offer to your folk of respite in Imladris as they journey.”_

_“Why do you make such an offer?”_

_Lord Elrond grinned broadly as if she’d told him a good joke. “It behooves me to have a friendly and cooperative kingdom on my eastern border, Lady, and friendly and cooperative travelers moving throughout my city. Kíli is well able to help me achieve both.”_

_“How?”_

_“Did Kíli not tell you of his first visit to Imladris when he came with your brother’s company?”_

_Dís regarded him narrowly._

_“I thought not. Your brother’s company thought our sacred fountains were public baths, burned the furniture in their quarters to fuel their cook fires, and drank the wine stores to nothing in less than a week. I would much prefer that our fountains, furniture, and flasks of wine were spared such indignity in the future.”_

_“My son is not a tavern clearer.”_

_“No, he is not. But he would be a familiar face to your folk in a strange city, and would help them understand the ways of the land they will soon occupy. By the time your folk reach Erebor, the ways of Elves and Men will not be so strange to them.”_

_“Why do you care?”_

_“For the same reasons you want Kíli on the throne. The question isn’t why either of us seeks what we both want. The question is rather which path will accomplish what we both want.”_

_Dís looked away. What did an Elf know about her strategy, her path? Hers cut directly to the heart of the matter, where the Lord Elrond’s was roundabout and oblique. What chance did such indirection have against the stubbornness of Dwarves?_

_Lord Elrond had learned to win twice as many chess games as she had._

_* * *_

 

Our party of Elves and Dwarves remained by the river for another three days while Giriel was in healing trance for her terrible wound, but it was not solely for her benefit that our stay ran so long. There was a substantial haul of pilfered goods amassed in the bandits’ camp, and it took several trips to sort it out and bring it back to our river camp.

In between trips to retrieve the goods, we continued to have games, such as a wild Dwarvish one that involved mounted teams trying to grab a headless antelope and hauling it over an end line. Níri was kept busy seeing to the injured; I was relieved that Kíli was not one of them, even though he took a few turns. It was fun to watch him yell back and forth with the other Dwarves as they sparred for the antelope. It was also hilarious to watch the rams vent their energies, because they didn’t distinguish between teammates or opponents. To their lights, all others on the field were deserving of butts, kicks, and bites. Even when their riders were tumbled off, the rams didn’t stop making their marks, and the injured showed those marks accordingly.

The Elves had cavalry competitions, and of course our Drennal did well, for she had trained many of the horses to make the complex jumps and turns. As a contrast to the Dwarves’ bruising antelope game, this was a competition of beautiful style and form.

Dwarves and the Orc Spawn worked to refit the pair of damaged carts we salvaged from the bandit’s camp so that we could haul goods back to Imladris. Much of the stolen items were woven goods, and we packed and arranged them to make a well-cushioned berth for Giriel. While she had been in healing trance for three full days, her leg was still far from fit, and would not allow her to sit her horse. This greatly disappointed her, as well as the Dwarves. They had become very fond of her racing among them with her pale hair streaking out behind her and her delighted laugh ringing across the plain. But she was wise enough to know that keeping to the cart on the way home would allow her leg to heal more surely, and so would not trouble her in the future.

The Dwarves had also grown very fond of Míriel, and as I walked about the camp with her in my arms, they greeted me with pleasant smiles and Míriel with delighted ones. She had a few new toys in addition to Troli’s doll now, such as a carved wooden ram with curly horns, and a matching antelope on little wheels.

Lord Elrond and Dís spent most of their time playing chess. That suited me. I didn’t want to talk to her. Kíli watched them from afar, and didn’t go out of his way to avoid her, and even sat with her at meals a time or two when she wasn’t playing chess. But he kept all conversation light, and refused to let her engage him about Erebor again.

Gandalf wandered here and there, mostly listening. I wondered what he was thinking about.

The only one who had not gained some measure of comfort was Lindir. He was so much a creature of the city with its predictable goings and comings that life in a tent among the exuberant Orc Spawn and raucous Dwarves was most disconcerting. The Dwarves quickly picked up on his discomfort of bathing in a river, and of finding strange elements in the stew or mice in his bedding, and began to tease him about it. Most of the Elves had viewed the Dwarves with some reservation at first, but Kíli had taken it upon himself to offer suggestions and translation on both sides to ease the way – something I hoped Dís noted. He’d even taught the Elves a few curses – Drennal had helped with this last part, not to my surprise. Lindir had given it his best, serving his duties and taking the jokes without complaint, but the Dwarves still delighted in teasing him.

As much as we had privately snickered about Lindir back in Imladris when we’d gone looking for a home, Kíli did not snicker at Lindir’s woes now. He’d been subject to more than his share of ribbing as a young Dwarf, and he watched Lindir’s woes with a close eye. It finally grew too obnoxious when he, Lord Elrond’s aide, and I took our turn at duty to prepare supper.

Lindir was sorting greens for the Elvish salads, I was mixing meal for cakes, and Kíli was carving joints of meat into slices. A trio of Dwarves had rigged a broiling rack from a remnant scavenged from the bandits’ camp, built up the fire, and were taking the meat Kíli cut to put on the rack. Another pair of Dwarves had laid the griddle for my cakes on a second fire, and a quartet of Elves stood by to scoop the cooked meat and cakes onto plates as the hungry came up to us. A pair of the Dwarves took to flicking embers from the edge of the broiling fire at Lindir. Most of them went out before they landed, but they made enough of a tap that Lindir turned to see what caused them. Of course, the Dwarves were impassive when he turned around, and then a-snicker when he turned back to the greens. Kíli let this go until a lit ember flew into Lindir’s hair. Kíli was quick to thwack it out before it flamed up, but poor Lindir didn’t have the first idea why Kíli was thumping his back.

“The _doh kros_ were throwing bits of fire into your hair, weren’t they?” Kíli explained. He turned back to the pair of Dwarves, and quickly cuffed both of them on the ears. “Oi, you couple of maggots! You set anyone alight and I’ll throw both of you in the fire proper, won’t I? In fact, you’d better stop teasing this lad, or you’ll rue the day you started once we get to Rivendell!”

“Yow – spit on you, Kíli! We were just having a bit of fun!” Both Dwarves flinched and tried to get away from Kíli, but he kicked the legs out from under one, and pushed the other down to the ground and stepped on his chest.

“Oi, climb a tree and look for the bird that ate your brains and left shit in its place, you rubbish. You’re a _shemator kautar_ , but Lindir is Lord Elrond’s aide – he’s got the keys to the lord’s larder, doesn’t he? What kind of vittles do you think you pair of _barathar curp doh kros_ are likely to get if you burn all his hair off? He’ll give you burnt straw for bread, pickle vinegar for wine, and cold horseshit for a meat pie, and make you pay double for it. Then he’ll ban you from every inn in the city, so you’ll have to go another three hundred miles on to Erebor before you get near a drop of ale.”

I suspected that the last part about the ale was what convinced Flin and Flar to take Kíli’s threat seriously, for they raised their hands in submission and muttered subdued apologies. Kíli let them get up and go back to the fire, and he gave me a wink as I smothered a smile. Lindir had his hair pulled in front of his shoulders, anxiously making sure it wasn’t in imminent danger of burning. I also suspect he was speechless from trying to absorb Kíli’s earthy dressing down of the two Dwarves.

Kíli grinned and patted his back. “If they give you any more trouble, sing out. I’ll take them to task.”

Lindir nodded, in something of a daze. “I... thank you.”

When Kíli and I shared a surreptitious and silent grin, I nodded to the side. Lord Elrond’s tent was nearby, and he, Gandalf, and Dís had seen Kíli’s dressing down. To my mind, it reinforced what Kíli and I had maintained to Dís, that he was the perfect one to help ease relations between emigrating Dwarves and Imladris Elves.

The day that Giriel finally was able to hobble out of our tent and sit outside on a blanket was a celebration. The Dwarves put on a nice show of the antelope game for her, which she cheered enthusiastically from the sidelines. The Elves sang half the day, which was beautiful. Once again, Míriel thought all the hubbub was for her, and laughed and kicked and gummed her toys with great enthusiasm. Gandalf capped the evening off with a few fireworks, which brought cheers all around, even from Míriel. Our babe was not one to let a little noise distract her from the magic of immense, scented flowers that bloomed across the night sky.

Early the next morning, we filled water bottles, washed our last clothes, and collected our last greens. The tents came down, the fires went out, and baggage went atop horses and rams and carts.

At last, we were going home.


	53. Chapter 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi all.
> 
> The journey is over, and homecoming is sweet.
> 
> We're almost done, but not quite.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some mild erotica at the end of the chapter, for those of you who prefer to skip that. But the rest of this chapter is too sweet to miss, so just cross your eyes when you get to the bathing chamber, and you won't see a thing :-).

_Dís had kept an eye on the wizard ever since he’d arrived, but so far she hadn’t had more than a few words with him, not that she wanted any more. What exactly did a wizard do? She wasn’t sure, but that very nebulosity was enough to want to keep her distance. He’d likely throw his very large hat in the stew surrounding Kíli. And there was the matter of urging Thorin towards Erebor, and the loss of him as well as her oldest son..._

_The pace towards the Elves’ city was slow to accommodate the wounded Elf maid, Giriel, who was not fit yet to sit a horse. Still, Dís had seen the wound that had felled her, and it was a wonder the maid was alive at all, much less with leg intact. Many of Dís’s folk liked Giriel for her uninhibited love of riding, her ready laugh... and it would be dishonest to claim that her beauty hadn’t intrigued more than a few of them. An Elf she might be, but a warm and approachable one._

_Such a slow pace saw a lot of folk moving to and fro to share conversation. Oteriel and Ferrisch, the generals of their folk, had long conversations, and not only about martial matters. They had become fast friends._

_Lord Elrond moved freely about his folk and hers, listening more than he spoke, but his smile was often in evidence. It was reassuring to see that his people greeted his company with pleasure rather than awe, and were not afraid to speak to him on a variety of subjects._

_Kíli and Tauriel, when they were not riding the company’s perimeter, were inseparable. They took turns to carry sweet Miri in her swaddle, and their conversation was soft and private. They way they touched each other made her wince, for those gestures held all the tenderness, affection, and intimacy that she had missed. Their smiles for one another were as much caresses as their gestures. When they joined the rest of their Orc Spawn comrades, the camaraderie was palpable. They were unafraid to ride beside her, too, including her in their conversation. She shared the task of carrying Miri in her swaddle for a while, marveling at how content the bairn was to look up at her and smile. What bounty her son had found for himself!_

_The wizard, though... the wizard. He, too, moved freely among the company, smoking his pipe and humming to himself, laughing at jokes whether told by Dwarf or Elf. She’d almost come to think that he was avoiding her, for all that he nodded gravely to her when their paths crossed._

_She didn’t like obliqueness, whether on the chessboard or among the folk around her. She urged her ram to fall in beside the wizard’s horse._

_He nodded to her in his usual grave fashion. “Lady Dís.”_

_“Wizard. I think you try to avoid me.”_

_His eyebrows went up slowly as he smoked his pipe, and he met her eyes placidly. “Do I?”_

_“I think you do.”_

_“And why do you think so?”_

_“Are you one of the legion of folk who want to tell me what is best for my son?”_

_His eyebrows remained raised in inquiry. “Should I be?”_

_She snorted. “No more than the rest of them.”_

_He nodded. “I see.”_

_“Well?”_

_One eyebrow went down, and his eyes sharpened. “Well, what, Lady?”_

_“Tell me your opinion.”_

_He smiled. “My opinion is of no importance. It is your son’s opinion that matters.”_

_“I’ve no doubt that you’ve had much to do with his opinion, just as you had much to do with Thorin’s decision to march upon Erebor.”_

_The wizard’s eyes were pale blue, but they seemed to swirl, like the ripples of heat that came off a banked fire. “How long had you lived with your brother, Lady, to think that he ever needed anyone to form an opinion for him? If Thorin needed anything to form his opinion outside his own thoughts, it would be the long history of his folk, not the counsel of wizards.”_

_Dís had to concede that the wizard’s words were accurate. “Kíli is not so sure of his own opinion, and is more easily swayed.”_

_The wizard laughed merrily. “Do you think so? In the short time I’ve known him, he’s followed his heart without fail or falter. His arrows fly true.”_

_“I do not like the words of so many, including a wizard, that seek to sway Kíli away from his own heritage.”_

_The wizard eyed her so sharply that she squirmed a bit under his scrutiny. “His heritage? Kíli has embraced his heritage with both arms flung wide. Look at him and tell me that you do not agree.”_

_I turned, and found Kíli walking hand in hand with Tauriel, carrying Míriel on his chest. Drennal and Fallin walked with them, and so did Níri and Troli. They were laughing over a bairn’s counting song that Níri and Troli were teaching the Elves for Míriel and Drennal’s forthcoming bairn._

_“He does his parents proud. Both of them.”_

_It was not the wizard who rode away from their conversation._

_* * *_

 

In many ways, the next three days of travel were the most wonderful they could have been. We had good food, good company, and good weather, as well as no one demanding us to hurry. Yet in another way, they were excruciating, passing only with exquisite slowness because I could not stop thinking about what lay at the end of them – home. Four long months had passed while Tauriel and I had been away, and nothing held more attraction than did our homecoming. Finally, finally, not long after the greatest heat of the day, we crossed the last stretch of the plain and stood looking down upon the city nestled in a great, cleft valley – Rivendell. Imladris.

“It is beautiful,” my mother agreed softly, looking down from atop her ram as we paused to savor the view. Around us, equally in awe, the Dwarves murmured at the wide, streaming Bruinen that had made the valley, and the ethereal stone pavilions that perched among the cliffs. I remembered the day I first seen the city. Bilbo had been just as wondering as I had, and he’d commented to Gandalf that it had felt like magic. I wasn’t one to know much about magic, but if anyplace was magic, this city was.

We descended the long, wandering path, and I grew more and more excited with each new building that appeared between the trees. This was the perfect time of year to see the city at its best, for the trees were lushly green, the stone of the buildings was sparkly white in the intense sunlight, and the sound of the water made one think of coolness. Beside me, Tauriel’s face was alight with the same anticipation I felt. When the path broadened a bit, I drew Trellennan beside Jalsin.

“I’ll help _Maamr_ and Lindir get the Dwarves settled,” I said. “You go on ahead, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Of course not,” she said firmly. “I will go with you, so that we come home together. That is the way our homecoming should be.”

I grinned. How did I ever, ever earn the love of such a wonderful, fiery, Elf warrior maid? “You’re right. That _is_ the way our homecoming should be.”

“We should bring Dís home with us, too.”

I truly was blessed. “I was going to ask if you’d mind.”

“She is family, yes?”

“Recalcitrant and stubborn family.”

“Family, all the same.”

“All right. Before we reach the city proper, though, I’d better set the lads straight about a few things.”

I gathered all the Dwarves around before we got so far that they’d be too busy gawking to listen to me. I kept it short, mostly to stay out of the fountains and don’t throw the food and use the firewood rather than the furniture for the cook fires. I’d already talked to Lindir about where to house them, so after we parted from Lord Elrond, Gandalf, Master Oteriel, and all the Elves but the Orc Spawn, we headed down to the deepest part of the valley and the farm fields. Lindir made the arrangements with one of the farmers for pasture for the rams and tent sites for the Dwarves, and we left them to make camp. Tomorrow, we’d see about rooms and such, but for tonight, the lure of a nearby inn with excellent ale was good enough. Ferrisch had turned down one of the fancy guest suites to stay with his warriors, and promised that the inn would survive their patronage unscathed.

“It better, lads!” I called to them all. “Else Lindir will make you pay double damages, and ban you from the best ale in the city!”

Lindir looked terrified at the prospect of having to enforce my threat, but everyone laughed good-naturedly.

The Orc Spawn had come with us to settle the Dwarves, for they’d made several friends among Ferrisch’s troop. Giriel was still in the back of her cart, but she hobbled down, held between Rhiannel and Fallin, to say goodbye to her friends. We left the one cart with the Dwarves, took Giriel’s cart and our horses in hand, and turned for home.

“Come on, then,” I said, offering my mother my arm. “It’s not much farther now.”

She looked at me in surprise, but I wiggled my arm. “Come on, _Maamr_. It’s been four months, and I want to go home. Aren’t you coming?”

Her eyes darted to Tauriel as my wife hugged Troli goodbye.

“What, you want to stay in a tent, rather than a nice, soft bed? Put up with a lot of Dwarvish lads who haven’t had a drop of ale in two months, or have a nice supper at home with a drop of red wine and a sit down in the garden?”

Tauriel came up to in time to hear my enticements, and smiled at my mother. “If there are apples left in the larder, we’ll make a crumble.”

“Besides, Míriel will be there,” I said, and took _Maamr’s_ arm.

 _Maamr_ didn’t speak, but I don’t think she could. Still, nothing kept her feet from falling right in with us as we headed up the valley.

We had one side trip to make, and that was to the arms hall and stable, so we could see to our horses. _Maamr_ took charge of Míriel while we rewarded our stalwart horses for their long and devoted support. Giriel kept her company on a bench as the rest of us groomed horses, measured out well-deserved feed, and cleaned harness. Drennal and Rhiannel would come back later to see to Whitefoot, our packhorse that remained harnessed to Giriel’s cart. We piled our baggage onto the cart, boosted Giriel atop the lot, and made our way home.

I savored the walk up from the arms hall with my wife and mother alongside. As we walked, I pointed out the sights to _Maamr_ , from the forge where I worked, to the craft houses and fine pavilions. But at long last, at very long last, we came to the street where all of us lived. The courtyard in the center was swept and full of lush flowers, the fountain was flowing sweetly, and the common gardens we’d all helped to plant were overflowing with vines and flowers. Despite the daylight that would linger for another several hours, all of the welcome lanterns beside the doors of our houses were lit. One of the doors opened, and there was Tethrandil to greet us. He had kept his promise, to keep all of our gardens in fine form, and once we’d introduced _Maamr_ and gotten Giriel out of the cart, he helped us unload our baggage.

“I’ll take the cart and Whitefoot down,” he insisted. “Get yourself settled. I’ve got everything you need for supper and breakfast in my larder, so help yourself – yes, even you, Kíli. I made sure I had enough to fill up two of you. So go!”

He led off the empty cart and horse with a wave.

We were left where we started, the six of us off on an adventure. None of us quite knew what to say, so Giriel saved us from ourselves and hauled herself off her bench, hobbled into the middle of us, and stuck out her hand.

“Come on, you lot. We’ll see each other tomorrow. So no goodbyes. Just... _comys thon_ , Orc Spawn.”

“ _Comys thon_ ,” we all murmured. We had a quick round of hugs, and separated. I was touched that all four of them went to _Maamr_ and wished her well before they went inside.

I was also touched when Drennal and Fallin went together, and so did Giriel and Rhiannel.

When they had gone inside, I turned back to my own front door. Four months ago, I had looked upon this door, memorizing its shape and the curve of the welcome lantern glass. The once-bare vine curving up the front column was in full leaf, covered with bright red trumpet flowers, and abuzz with honeybees. At the foot of the vine, Tethrandil had set pots of marigolds and calendulas in a blaze of orange and yellow and white. Nothing I had seen in four months had looked more inviting.

I turned to Tauriel. “We’re home at last, _amrâlimê_.”

She smiled as brightly as the sun. “Yes, we are, _a’maelamin_. Shall we go in?”

“Yes. Very much yes!” As we headed for the door together, I grabbed _Maamr’s_ arm. “Come on! We’re home!”

The hall smelled of only faintly of dust and disuse, for Tethrandil had done a good job to keep the worst of our absence at bay. It wasn’t enough to mask the smell of flowers. I hauled our baggage into the hall, shut the door behind us, and turned to _Maamr_.

“Welcome to our home, _Maamr_. We hope you’ll be as happy here as we are.”

 _Maamr_ was giving the hall a long look, noting the bench where our armor usually hung, and the patterned rug before it. “I thank you both.”

“Come on, it’s too late for tea and too early for supper, so let us show you about before we worry about baggage and the kitchen.”

“I’d like that,” _Maamr_ agreed, venturing a smile.

“Good. Now, the first house rule is off with the boots. Saves having to sweep so much. I’ll get you some slippers.”

 _Maamr_ chuckled as she took off her overtunic, then sat on the bench to pull off her boots. “I’m happy to pad about in my bare feet for a while, Kíli. Show me your home, and we’ll worry about niceties such as slippers tomorrow.”

“Fair enough.” I pulled off my boots; tossed them under the bench; and shed vambraces, leaf mail, mail shirt, and overtunic to hang them on their hooks. When I was down to undertunic and trews, I took Míriel from Tauriel so she could shed likewise. “Look, Miri! We’re home! Do you remember it? Let’s show _Gabilmaamr_ all your favorite places to play.”

Tauriel and I showed my mother our sitting room, our elegant dining room with our beautiful vined china cupboard, the bathing chamber, the larder – which Tethrandil had already stocked with some basics – and the kitchen. We saved the best for last – our garden at the center of our home. It teemed with the flowers our friends had brought to our marriage celebration, even overflowing the borders to spill over the flagstones.

“Wait – let us have the full effect,” Tauriel exclaimed, and found the tap that set the fountain to fill. As I showed _Maamr_ all the different flowers, Tauriel found the stash of cushions in the storeroom, and brought them out to festoon the bench. She returned inside to fetch a bottle of wine, glasses, and a thick resting pad for Míriel. The wine and glasses went on the table before the bench, the pad went on the flagstones, and then I could set Míriel down safely. By this time, the fountain had filled, and the soft splashing of water was the final touch to our homecoming. I sighed, and poured the wine.

“Sit, _Maamr_ , and be comfortable. We’re home now, and we don’t have to stand on ceremony.”

When _Maamr_ had arranged herself at one end of the bench, I handed Tauriel down to the other end, and passed them both a glass of wine. I sprawled on the pad beside Míriel and took a sip from my glass. It seemed so surreal, to be at ease in our garden at last, as if we’d never left. Had I dreamed our whole adventure? No, here was _Maamr_ , and here was Míriel sitting up by herself, eyeing the sprigs of mint that grew around the fountain base. Tauriel got up one more time, and soon reappeared with Míriel’s bag. She fished out Troli’s doll, the carved ram, the wheeled antelope, the finger puppets, and the sadly bedraggled squeaky ball. Míriel burbled gleefully, pounced on her doll, and forgot about eyeing the mint.

“This is lovely,” _Maamr_ said, looking at all the flowers. “So beautiful, and peaceful. It must have been hard for you to leave it.”

I met Tauriel’s eyes, because she had been the one to sacrifice more than I. “It was. But leaving made the return all the sweeter.”

Míriel overbalanced herself and fell over, Troli’s doll flopping atop her. She giggled uproariously, drawing me to sweep her into my arms. “Come here, you silly bairn. You’ve had enough of gowns, haven’t you? Let’s get you out of that one. Tomorrow we’ll see about something shorter. But for now, you can roll about in your diaper and never mind the rest.”

We enjoyed a long while by the fountain, just resting. As wonderful as it was for Tauriel and me to revel in this homecoming, I think it did more good for _Maamr_. Even as a ruin, this garden had drawn Tauriel and me so strongly that we’d chosen it to be the heart of our home. With help from Bilbo and our friends, we’d turned the ruin into a beautiful and serene retreat, and now it worked its restful, peaceful magic on my mother as it had on us.

In time, I got up to peruse the larder, and nipped out to Tethrandil’s for enough to make us supper. Tauriel made the apple crumble and salad, I made the chicken pie, and _Maamr_ made the tubers dressed with cream and butter that I’d never been able to eat enough of. We ate in the kitchen to save on cleanup, with Míriel sitting in her basket to watch us. She was only days away from being too big to fit in her old basket, which was one more reminder of the time that had passed during our journey.

After supper, when it was dark enough to light the lanterns in the garden, we enjoyed the soft glow together, sparked here and there with the flash of fireflies. At length, I showed _Maamr_ how to work the water in the bathing chamber, and while she indulged, Tauriel and I arranged Bilbo’s room for her. Then we went back to the garden to savor a moment alone. I sat beside Tauriel on the bench and drew her close for a long, long kiss.

“Welcome home, _amrâlimê_.”

“I am very glad to be home with you, _a’maelamin_.”

“So am I. Once my mother retires, I’m going to carry you into the bathing chamber and welcome you home thoroughly, as a good husband should in humble thanks to the most wonderful wife he does not deserve.”

Tauriel smiled, put her arms around me, and kissed me back tenderly. “It is a good thing that we both need a good soaking, or I would have you right here, mother in the bath or not.”

Laughing, I stroked her beautiful hair. “I’d let you, too. But I want a proper soak as much as you do. Four months away from a bathing tub is a trial.”

“A most terrible trial.”

“A most terrible trial we will put behind us very soon. Until then, I’ll make do with sitting with my beautiful Elf warrior maid in the garden, and admire how the lantern light gilds your hair, and makes the rings in your lovely ears shine like starlight.”

“Oh, my. My husband has become a poet.”

“Not me. That was Fíli’s talent. I’m not so fanciful.”

“Then what do you call this talk of gilded hair and starlit rings?”

I tugged a lock of Tauriel’s hair gently. “Only truth, _amrâlimê_. Not fancy.”

Tauriel’s laugh was quiet as she laid her head on my shoulder.

We shared the last bit of the wine until _Maamr_ came softly to the edge of the garden. She smelled of water and soap and had on a comfortable gown and slippers. Tauriel sat up, and I went to bring _Maamr_ into the garden. But she demurred.

“It’s time I found my bed, Kíli. May you sleep well tonight, with only pleasant dreams."

I kissed _Maamr’s_ cheek. “Nothing I dream will be as pleasant as being home again. I’m glad you’re here to share our homecoming. Sleep well.”

Tauriel was beside me, and she took _Maamr’s_ hands to bid her goodnight. “Sleep well, Dís.”

“I thank you, lass. I think I will.”

 _Maamr_ squeezed Tauriel’s hands, kissed my cheek, and took herself to her room.

When the door to Bilbo’s room closed, I slid my eyes to Tauriel, to find hers meeting mine. She smiled. I smiled.

“I’ll scrub the tub. You get the bairn.”

 _Maamr_ had been a thoughtful guest, and had left the tub clean for us. I started the water, and stripped off undertunic, trews, and smalls. Tauriel swept in with Míriel in her basket, and peeled out of her clothes faster than I had.

“I fed Míriel. We have time to scrub before she needs a clean diaper.”

I needed no incentive to clamber into the wonderfully cool water with my wife and slather us both with more soap than we’d seen in four months. It felt so good that I washed twice, just because I could. Tauriel washed my back carefully, but though the welts across it were still red against my pale skin, they were no longer so terribly tender. Then she turned me into jelly by scrubbing my mane until I sounded like a large, grumbly cat, which made her laugh. I repaid the favor by oiling her hair and massaging her neck and shoulders, laughing when she started to hum.

When Míriel was ready for a clean diaper, Tauriel climbed out to wash her off and bring her to play with us in the water. We rediscovered our old games of bubbles and squeaky splashes. The delight of her happy voice, her bright smile, her kicking feet, and splashing hands was so sharp that it was nearly more than I could stand. I had missed this so much! It made the long time it took for Míriel to get tired easy to bear. It was my turn to get out of the tub to dry her off, dress her in a clean diaper and light gown, and nestle her in her cradle. No bag of gowns, this time; not even her basket. Her cradle, beside our bed. Not our blankets in a tent, but our real bed, in our bedchamber, in our home, in Imladris.

Tauriel welcomed me back into the tub not with the ambush I expected, but with tenderness and a long sigh. She wanted to savor each moment as thoroughly as I, without rushing. We nestled in each other’s arms in the cool water until the closeness of our bodies led to kisses, and kisses led to caresses, and caresses led to me slipping inside Tauriel. She wound her legs around me, and I drew her breasts to my lips, caressing her nipples as lightly as a feather. It had been so long since we’d had the privacy to so thoroughly enjoy each other that neither of us lasted but seconds. That, of course, made the second coupling all the better. Tauriel confirmed that I still had no resistance when she tightened around me, and I proved that she still lacked all control when I stroked her most delicate parts. When we finally dried off and retired to our bedchamber, we started all over again, until my bliss at our homecoming finally blurred into sleep. Tauriel nestled beside me as I drifted away.

I didn’t have to bother with tea tonight. I was home.


	54. Chapter 54

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all.
> 
> We are at the end of the journey. We'll have a feast, and maybe Dis will finally make her last chess move.
> 
> Be sure to read to the end for the uncredited cameo.
> 
> I am heartbroken to be done!

The best part about our homecoming was the bright light that shone in Kíli’s eyes. It had glimmered into life when he’d woken this morning in our Orc Spawn tent, anticipating the first glimpse of our city that would come in the afternoon. It had grown brighter when we’d come to the high path that led the way down into the valley, when we’d glimpsed the Bruinen flowing throughout the city, and the graceful structures interspersed among the streams. How ecstatic he had been to point each feature out to Dís, who despite herself caught a bit of her son’s excitement. It had grown even brighter when we’d reached the city proper. He could barely keep himself from sweeping me up into his arms and dancing around the big courtyard that lay before the large welcoming hall, so he danced Míriel in his arms instead. Lord Elrond, Oteriel, and Lindir took their leave of us there, promising a feast on the morrow. The Elves also dispersed, though not without fond farewells. The Orc Spawn, I was gratified to see, stayed with us to help get the Dwarves settled, which we did in short order, and then the horses. As we finally walked the last way home and reached our street, the glow in Kíli’s eyes grew to its brightest, and he was once again my _ancalima hendi_.

We bid the Orc Spawn farewell only, not goodbye, in the beautiful courtyard at the center of our houses. Kíli and I would have time soon enough to savor the journey with them, and thank them for their staunch support and friendship. Now was the moment to embrace our individual homecomings, and to ease back into our normal lives.

In and around my delight in Kíli’s excitement as well as my own, I watched Dís to gauge her mood. She had seemed quite stunned that Kíli and I had urged her to come home with us. She had taken pains to be at odds with us, no doubt. But she was family, and belonged in our home during her stay in the city.

If I were honest, I would admit that I had another reason for wanting Dís to come home with us. It was not a generous or familial one, but a calculating one – yes, it was a chess move. So far, reason and facts had not dissuaded Dís from her insistence that Kíli belonged in Erebor. Maybe seeing him in our grace-filled home would. Our home was where Kíli’s heart and spirit shone brightest, and perhaps their rekindling would convince the Dwarvish chess master to step aside for the mother who loved her son, and relent.

When Dís shut Bilbo’s door behind her, Kíli and I were finally able to end the journey for ourselves. The haste, worry, and trauma of the past four months washed away as we tended to each other in the bath, and resumed the intimacies that the confines of a nomad tent had restricted. I had missed this so much, not just my physical pleasure, but the sight and sound of my _a’maelamin’s_ pleasure as well, and the assurance that our bond had only grown and become richer. When Kíli finally slipped into sleep, I stayed beside him, because doing so was a gift.

It was also a delight to savor sight of the sleeping emissary of the Valar beside me, for his beautiful tousled hair and sleek muscles were compelling invitations. Our reunion tonight had been gentle and tender and slow. I did not expect that to hold true in the morn, if I had anything to say about it.

The morn proved how good homecoming was for Kíli, as he suffered no night terrors. On the contrary, he woke as lustily as I’d hoped, so Míriel did not have her breakfast as early as she wanted it. But her parents were better for making her wait, and she got to enjoy another splash in the bathing tub as we washed away the rigors of our indulgence. We eventually padded into the kitchen for breakfast, where Dís joined us. We decided to visit the market to restore our larder after breakfast, then visit Lindir to see how we could help settle the Dwarves. If we had time, we would spend the afternoon unpacking our baggage and whisking the dust of our absence from the house. This eve, we would attend the feast Lord Elrond had called to welcome the Dwarves to the city. Tomorrow Kíli and I would report to Oteriel to be put back on the duty rosters, and Kíli would take his mother around the city. Already, life was falling back into its normal flow.

We set off with Míriel and Dís in tow to the market. As we perused the stalls together, I thought Kíli’s mother still played chess, given the way she considered all that went on around her. What position she took in her game, I didn’t know, and didn’t dwell on it it for long. The market was a bright place that I enjoyed visiting, both for its bustle as well as its variety, and I gave myself up to its rhythm. Its stalls were full of everything, from cloth and flowers to dishes and pots, as well as everything for the larder. Kíli pointed out everything to his mother with delight. Perhaps he was not aware of how effortlessly he switched back and forth between Quenya, Common Tongue, an occasional sentence in _Khazuduhl_ , or a muttered curse in Orcish, but I was. Kíli had been a very young and inexperienced Dwarf lad when we had first met, but he was that no longer. He was happy, confident, and poised, if one could call Dwarvish exuberance poise.

I hoped Dís noticed.

We carried home a lot of food, as well as cloth to fashion new clothes for Míriel, who was outgrowing everything, and staples such as soap and lavender oil. We didn’t quite fill the empty larder shelves, but to buy any more would have required a cart to haul it home. Afterwards, we walked down to the Dwarves’ camp with Dís and Lindir, and helped make arrangements for rooms at nearby inns. They had in fact behaved themselves last night, though two inns reported a dramatic shortage of sausages as well as ale.

Back at home, Kíli eased his mother into the ebb and flow of our lives, and so she helped make luncheon, keep Míriel entertained, and sweep and dust in the afternoon. Perhaps my hope was bearing fruit, for Dís seemed more at ease, and not quite so considering.

Was she learning how to live, rather than just play chess?

Before we were to set off for Lord Elrond’s feast, Kíli and I enjoyed a glass of wine by the fountain as we worked on our braids. Kíli was bare-chested, preferring not to put on his dark grey silk tunic until after we had fixed our hair; I had on the lightest of silk dresses in varied greens and silver. Míriel had a new blue gown, shorter to show her tiny feet and sleeveless against the heat. She sat on her cushioning pad by the fountain to play with Troli’s doll and her squeaky ball. As we combed and plaited, Kíli laughed at how proper we looked after so long living like nomads.

“I didn’t think I’d remember how to wear anything proper for a party,” Kíli grinned. “When you live in a tent, everything’s going to get sweaty on a horse, or greasy around the cook fire, so there’s not much point in anything fancy.”

“Truth,” I agreed as I finished Kíli’s _a’maelamin_ braid. “But wearing nice things is a delight now and then, if only to recall what a dashing Dwarf I have for a husband.”

“There’s that bit about dashing again,” snickered Kíli. “Shall I get the horse, _amrâlimê_?”

I snorted. “Leave the horse in the stable. Or perhaps you want the horse to escape your Elvish wife?”

“Never,” Kíli turned around to kiss me quickly, then again more slowly. “Not ever.” He looked around before kissing me a third time, this one accompanied with caresses best shared in private. “Or perhaps you want to escape your Dwarvish husband?”

I grinned, tracing a finger down Kíli’s throat and broad chest. “Not one so skilled, and so eager to apply those skills.”

Kíli hummed deep in his throat. “Do we have to go to Lord Elrond’s feast? I can think of several things I’d rather do.”

“Thinking about them will give you something to anticipate if the feast turns dull. Though I can’t imagine a dull feast when Dwarves are invited.”

A chuckle escaped Kíli. “I can’t say I’ve ever been to a dull feast when Dwarves are invited. Speaking of Dwarves, where is my mother? I bought her some braiding beads at the market today because I didn’t think she would have carried any all the way from Thorin’s Halls, then I forgot to give them to her in all the bustle this afternoon.”

“Perhaps she’s still in the bath.”

“I’ll find out, and fetch the beads.” He kissed me once more, and went to look for Dís. In short order, he returned with her. She wore a simple gown of the dark blue I remembered looking so regal on Thorin, and a beautiful necklace of blue feldspar and silver. This must be the necklace that Kíli had made for her so long ago. Her beard was already set with small braids and beads, though her hair was loose and undressed.

“I caught her just in time,” Kíli said. “I found some beads for you at the market, _Maamr_ , and Tauriel and I can help with the braids. Now, do you want your clan braids at the sides?”

Dís had her own box in her hands. “I did bring a few things, Kíli; enough to look respectable. I can do the clan braids myself. But show me what you found at the market.”

Kíli produced a small cloth bag and spilled a collection of blue and silver beads into his hand. “I thought they’d look nice in your hair, braided in the honeycomb pattern I like so much.”

“Of course you like that one. It’s hard to do by myself,” Dís replied, but her exasperation was fond.

“That’s why Tauriel and I are here. We’ll do it.” Kíli pulled a stool in front of the settee. “Go on, sit.”

“The blue and silver will look nice with your dress,” I added.

“All right, then.”

Dís perched on the stool, and we sat on the settee behind her. Kili showed me how to plait the beads into his mother’s dark hair, and then link the small braids in make a mesh pattern that stretched from neck to waist down his mother’s back. It was a simple design to make, but looked quite intricate and beautiful when done.

“Done,” Kíli pronounced it, and handed his mother a mirror to see the result. “I’ve just got to put on my tunic and my boots, and I’m ready.”

“Very well done. I thank you both. Now, where is Miri? There you are, still tussling with your doll! I think Troli will be very happy to see how much you like his present, don’t you? Come, _Gabilmaamr_ will carry you.”

We walked up to the dining pavilion slowly, for it was hot even though full dark approached, and we wanted to arrive looking as elegant as possible. I had no hope that Kíli would return home as elegantly as he left, as this was a feast for Dwarves. So I admired him as we came into the pavilion, his hair glossy and neatly braided, his marriage rings gleaming in his ears, his high-necked tunic making the most of his slender build and height, and the smoky grey and black of his clothes making the most of his coloring. When he caught me looking at him, he winked, and his lips curved up into that irrepressible smile. He was truly my dark Dwarf.

We were not the first to arrive, and already a knot of Dwarves was gathered around the ale barrel, singing merrily. It was a greeting song they sang to Giriel, who was ensconced nearby on a bench beside Rhiannel with her leg propped up. She’d opted for a tunic and leggings to cover her bandaged leg, but still looked as enchanting as any Elf maid. Drennal sat near her with Fallin, both of them smiling at the robust tune. Kíli took up the tune and drew his mother and me to join them. I was glad to see Dís smile and join in the song with her folk. When the song ended, individual conversations broke out as folk milled about to greet one another.

Lord Elrond joined us soon after with Lindir at his shoulder, and just moments later Oteriel and Ferrisch appeared, goblets already in their hands, clearly continuing a conversation started some time ago. I had no doubt that a lasting friendship had begun between the two generals, one that would generate many letters between them as time passed. Gandalf also appeared behind the two generals, rubbing his hands in anticipation of the coming meal.

The arrival of the high lord was the signal for the feast to begin. There were tables and cushions scattered throughout the room and a large table bearing the food, so folk helped themselves and sat wherever they liked. Dís chose to sit with Lord Elrond to discuss chess – no surprise – so while I held Míriel, Kíli dished up our plates and we found cushions with Troli and Níri near Giriel’s bench. Kíli emptied his first plate in seconds, went back to fetch more, and then was happy to hold Míriel while I ate salad and doled out bites of chicken pie to him. Míriel was delighted with the hubbub, especially when Troli bounced his doll for her.

When we were through our food, Giriel called for us to put Míriel up on the bench with her, and then urged us to dance as some of the Elves were doing. We tried a round or two, laughing when we had to adjust the moves to accommodate our height difference. The Dwarves took over the floor to start a vigorous jumping dance, which spectators encouraged with clapping and high-pitched cries. Giriel couldn’t join in the jumping, but she added her ululations with gusto. Kíli looked so tempted that I gave him a little push.

“Go on,” I prodded.

He beamed at me, and jumped into the throng, leaping high, braids flying, and eyes sparkling. Despite all that he’d endured, I thought his spirit was the brightest in the hall.

When the jumping dance ended and the Elves began a more sedate one, Kíli gallantly squired his mother through the figures, and for the first time Dís seemed to completely relax. She chatted with Kíli, smiling and even laughing, as unself-conscious about being the only Dwarvish couple on the floor as her son. When the Dwarves took over again to start the rhyming game that so many of both folk knew, Kíli escorted Dís to the side.

“That was fun!” Kíli exclaimed as our Orc Spawn comrades joined into the game. “ _Maamr_ , can I get you something to drink? Or you, Tauriel? That was thirsty work!”

“I’d like a little wine,” Dís replied, and I nodded, so Kíli threaded through the throng to fetch both. By the time he returned with three glasses, Lord Elrond, Gandalf, and Lindir had joined us.

“Here you are,” Kíli said, holding out the glasses for Dís and me to take, while he kept the third. He offered Lord Elrond a bow. “Thank you for the feast, Lord Elrond. The food is delicious, the wine is at its usual high level of perfection, and the entertainment is brilliant.”

Gandalf chuckled softly, for the rhyming game had delved into verses more ribald than not, and even quiet Drennal was openly laughing. One of the Dwarves felt so moved at the game that he clambered up on one of the chairs and started to sing a song that was quite filthy, which several of his kinsmen chose to answer in the time-honored way – a barrage of cakes. More decided that was an excellent idea, and the cake plates were emptying rapidly.

“Oh, no,” Lindir gulped. “Not again! It took two weeks to get the stains out of the upholstery the last time.”

“It did,” Lord Elrond nodded with a wince. “Would you kindly remind them, Lindir, that cakes are better eaten than thrown?”

Lindir’s already alarmed expression waxed even paler, so much so that I smothered a laugh. Kíli took pity on the poor Elf and pulled on his arm.

“Come on, Lindir. I’ll show how to straighten out this lot. First, you’ve got to get their attention. Oi, you lot of _doh kros_!” he bellowed, pulling Lindir after him. 

Kíli grabbed a silver platter, dumped its few remaining cakes onto another platter, and pounded it with his fist until it rang like a gong. “What did I tell you about throwing the food? You want to throw food, host your own feast and have at, but the Elves hosted this one, so you follow their rules, don’t you?” He banged one of the Dwarves on the head with the platter. “The Elf maids don’t take kindly to cake crumbs and custard in their hair, and they take even less kindly to the Dwarves who put them there! So clean up this mess before they all think you’re a right lot of pigs! Go on!”

The Dwarves duly scuttled to eat any cakes they held, and several went around with plates to scoop up the crumbs. Kíli nodded in satisfaction, dropped the cake plate back on the buffet table, and thumped Lindir on the back hard enough to make the aide wince.

“There, you see? You just have to shout a bit, and it comes out all right.”

I laughed, putting my hands to my mouth to smother the sound. Dis shot me a look, and looked down at the floor, her body shaking with laughter. Lindir had no more chance of mustering a shout than he had of flying, and Dís knew it.

“Well done, Kíli,” Gandalf said quietly, looking at Dís.

“Well done, indeed,” Lord Elrond agreed. “My upholstery, my aide, and I are grateful to your son for his timely intervention, Lady Dís.”

Dís looked up, her eyes following Kíli as he oversaw the tidying of cake crumbs with Lindir. She sobered. “Aye, he’s come into his own, and it’s time I said so.”

She headed across the room towards Kíli. I gulped and hurried after her. When she took Kíli’s arm, I was right behind her.

“Kíli, is there anything I can say that will convince you that your place is in Erebor?”

Kíli met his mother’s eyes, his amusement at Lindir’s discomfort and the Dwarves’ exuberance fading. What replaced it, however, was not alarm or anger, but calm confidence.

“I love you, _Maamr_. I thank you for doing everything for me that you have, throughout all my life. But my place isn’t in Erebor. It’s here, with my wife and daughter, where I can do more for our folk as they come to make a new life in the east, if Lord Elrond will have me.”

I didn’t have time to hold my breath before Dís nodded acceptance – acceptance! – of Kíli’s words. She turned on her heels, nearly bumping into me, but I jumped out of the way as she returned to Lord Elrond’s side. Kíli and I exchanged a look and hastened after her.

“Lord Elrond, my son has offered his services to you and your city to help you manage the Dwarves who will soon come your way on their way to Erebor. Do you think you can put those services to good use?”

Lord Elrond bowed to her. “I do indeed, Lady. As you have just seen, we have grave need of his particular brand of diplomacy.”

Kíli snorted in laughter, but quickly swallowed it. “Then I’m in your debt, and at your service, sir. Gladly so.”

He offered his hands to the High lord, who took them gravely. “Then Kíli, son of Dís of the Blue Mountains, I name you Imladris’s ambassador at large for all things Dwarvish.”

“Thank you, sir,” Kíli beamed, and looked up at me jubilantly.

“Well done,” Gandalf murmured, eyes twinkling.

It was well done, indeed. And none too soon.

 

* * *

 

It was beyond late when Kili and I walked out onto the terrace that overlooked Imladris’s great chasm. The sound of the water was clear, even if the waning moon gave too little light to reveal the view that was so spectacular during the day. Dis was still inside, talking to our folk and Lord Elrond, and Drennal and Giriel were playing with Míriel, so we’d ventured out for a moment away from the merriment. We sat together on the bench.

“I don’t believe it. _Maamr_ finally gave in. I’ve never seen her do that about anything!”

“I wonder what was the deciding factor?”

Kíli shook his head as if he were still surprised. “I’ve no idea. There were so many good reasons, but we may never know which one finally pushed her over the edge.”

I snickered. “Maybe it was the cake throwing.”

Kíli’s snicker was as merry as mine. “Or the look on poor Lindir’s face.”

“Since we may never know, I choose to think it was seeing you here, happy, and well regarded. The way you refused her was kind, too. You know your own mind, and you stood by that.”

He hummed. “Those are as good reasons as any.”

“I still worry about what will happen when our twenty Dwarvish warriors get to Erebor and start talking about Prince Kíli in Imladris.”

“I talked to _Maamr_ about that. This lot’s going back to the Blue Mountains with her. She’ll give them reason to keep me as their secret, she says. Even if Dain finds out sooner or later, by that time it’ll be clear that I’ve no interest in taking the throne from him or anyone else, and he’ll leave it be. By all accounts, he’s a pragmatic Dwarf.”

His fingers twined in my hair, caressing it as we sat together on the bench.

“Do you hear the singing?” he asked softly. “Bilbo said there was always music here, and he was right.”

“I do,” I replied, smiling. “Both in the water, and from the Elves.”

“You’d think you’d get tired of it, but it’s very restful, except when it’s invigorating, or dreamy, or rousing, or half a hundred other things. Even if you don’t understand the words, you somehow understand what the song is about, and you feel better for it.”

I smiled, for it was Bilbo who had said those words over a year ago, when Kíli and I had first come to Imladris looking for a refuge. It seemed fitting to recall our friend, for the adventure we’d begun with him was at last drawing to a close, and a new one was about to begin. We were no longer refugees, but residents of this beautiful city. We had a home, friends, a family resolution, and a new purpose added to the ones we’d originally sought. We also had a winsome daughter, who was the perfect symbol of our hopes for all that would come.

Kíli caught my eyes, his lips curving up in the crooked smile that was the one I loved best, because it was both loving and mischievous. I leaned forward to kiss him, and stroke his hair.

“Thank the Valar for a dark Dwarf who ran afoul of giant spiders in a dank forest,” I whispered.

He laughed. “And for the Elf maid who rescued him, for she is the joy of his life.”

In a while, we went back inside, collected our babe and Kíli’s mother, and went home.

 

 

EPILOGUE

 

_Four Months Later_

_Dís woke well refreshed after her long journey home. Fall was progressing, and she was glad to be back in Thorin’s Halls well before the first snow. As far north as the city lay, it was never easy to predict when the first blankets of white would fall, surprising unwary travelers with anything from a little dusting deposited gently, like sugar on a cake, to a raft of drifts driven across the land with the force of a hammer. She stretched, donned her day gown, and went downstairs to make her breakfast. She didn’t take long at it, for she had an important task waiting for her this morning._

_In less than an hour, she was dressed and walking to market, a basket on her arm. She passed the farmer’s market and threaded her way down the street of craft shops to a door she hadn’t opened for seventy-eight years. She looked inside the window quickly. Good, the shop was empty of clients. She took a deep breath, took the door pull in hand, and walked inside._

_He appeared exactly as she remembered, which was no surprise. He knew her instantly, and she was gratified that he smiled in welcome._

_“Welcome, little mother. You look well.”_

_“I thank you. I do not mean to intrude.”_

_“You, of all folk, do not. It pleases me to see you again after so long.”_

_“You’re as gracious now as you were then, Sir, and it pleases me to see you, too. I have something to give you that I hope returns a little of the great wealth you generously gave me so long ago.”_

_He arranged a chair for her at the same table where she had asked for his help. He sat in the one next to her, and gave her his full regard. His eyes were still as beautifully silver grey as she remembered._

_“I asked for no gift from you, Lady,” he said gravely._

_“This isn’t from me, Sir. It’s from our youngest son.”_

_Dís took out the wrapped bundle from her basket. Two months ago, the night before she’d left Imladris, Kíli had put this bundle in her hands._

_“What’s this?” she’d asked._

_He’d smiled. “If you ever see my father again, would you give these to him? Tell him I thank him. And if you don’t, then keep them as a remembrance of him from me.”_

_She put the bundle in the smith’s hands. He untied the cord, and unwrapped the soft leather. Inside were two sheathed knives, matched in form, but one with Dwarvish knotwork embellishments, and the other with Elvish vines._

_“I kept my promise to you. Not a word have I spoken, nor will I. Kíli does not care who you are, in any case. But he made these for you, and asked me to offer you his thanks.”_

_He unsheathed the blades, and ran a finger over the designs. “He is a fine smith.”_

_“Like his father. He is many fine things. Including the best of sons.”_

_Slowly, they began to talk._

 

# # #

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all of you,
> 
> You have been the best readers I could have asked for. Thank you for your encouragement, excitement, enthusiasm, critiques, and laughter. You all helped me get deeper into the characters to make them real, and I love having Kili's bright eyes, Tauriel's fierce love, Giriel's un-Elvish enthusiasm, Bilbo's simple honesty, Grimmaz's rough love, and *of course* Miriel's winsome burble to keep me company. (I enjoyed Krugnash and Berqk and Dis and our mysterious friend, too, but in different ways, of course.)
> 
> A special thank you to Hiasha and baby Athos, RandmNmbrs, anddante, shauron, Cassidy and her crew, Tin, BCgurlie, andalusa, Tiffany, MaleficientGirl, Eileen, SpringRain, Gumpel, helia, MaggieMaye, thecatwhocouldreadbackwards, MamaE, BootsBoots, D, Aeolia, and Leticia Hardin for writing all the wonderful comments. (If I missed anyone, I am very sorry, and didn't do so on purpose.) You have been the best!
> 
> Now, if everyone would just send a plea to the muse to send me another story, that would be terrific!
> 
> Kind Regards,
> 
> EldritchMage


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